Accidentally Fifty
by WordRunner
Summary: AU. On her first day at her new internship, Anastasia Steele has an unconventional meeting with her new boss.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** **I am not EL James and therefore do not own anything in the Fifty Shades universe. This story is mine; characters are not.**

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Everyone is entitled to the occasional bad day. Sometimes the second you open your eyes you can just tell nothing will go your way and the universe reinforces that notion with a spilled cup of coffee or heavy traffic that makes you late for work. The only cure for days like that is to crawl back in bed once it's over and pretend it didn't happen. Some people seem more prone to bad days than others and a rare few have lived a bad day since they were born. There are times I believe I fall into the latter category; when I have a bad day, it seems to be endless and spectacularly bad. Especially on this day when my luck tends to get worse with every minute that passes and my level of mortification only climbs.

It started on a day most people consider bad just on principle—Monday. As determined as I had been last night to ensure today went smoothly, the fates are against me. I set my alarm for six in the morning, but apparently didn't actually switch the damn thing on and I slept nearly an hour later than I had intended. The moment I realized the mistake, I jumped out of bed in a rush to get back on track and nearly broke my toe on the way to the bathroom for a shower when I stubbed it on a leg of my dresser. The water in my apartment building where I've lived only for a week has been on the fritz so I couldn't even count on hot water to help me gradually wake up; by the time I reached for a towel, my teeth were chattering from the cold water and I'm sure that if I looked in the mirror, my lips would have been blue. I burned myself on the curling iron then found a small tear in the dress I picked out for the day and since the rest of my good clothes are still packed away from the move, I couldn't change; I managed to nearly burn down the apartment cooking a bagel in the toaster, sustained another burn while I was having my morning tea, and spent fifteen minutes looking for my keys, only to find them on the kitchen table.

I had hoped that would be the end of it, but I should have known better; the streets of my new hometown of Seattle are filled with morning commuters and I'm not as familiar and comfortable with directions as I'd wanted to be by today. With every street I pass, my eyes are darting at the signs, looking for a familiar one to get me on the right path. I'm hoping that if I can get myself on track I won't be nearly as late for my first day of work as I fear. Getting discouraged, I look around everywhere but where I should be looking and when I come to a very sudden halt that results in breaking plastic of my secondhand car my mom and stepdad chipped in for after graduation, I want to cry. I wasn't going too terribly fast—35 MPH at the most, but it's enough to set off my airbag.

"Fuck!" I exclaim, slapping at the bag so I can bang on the steering wheel. I look in front of me; thankfully, the car I rear-ended doesn't seem to have sustained more than a cracked rear bumper. Then again, a car that expensive-looking should hold up against damage from distracted drivers. All I can think about right this second is how my insurance is going to skyrocket after this.

The black Audi SUV pulls to the side of the road and I follow, surprised that my car is actually still operational. A moment later, a man probably in his mid-thirties gets out of the driver's side wearing a sharp suit, aviator sunglasses, and a hair cut that screams military. Sighing, I wonder vaguely if it's possible for this situation to get worse. I open my door as he approaches to get out, but he holds a hand up to stop me. "Are you all right, Miss?" he asks briskly his eyes darting from the SUV to the front end of my car. Even from here I can see how twisted and broken it is.

I nod jerkily, fighting off tears. "I'm so sorry," I say to him. "I wasn't looking where I was going..."

He smiles kindly at me, reassuringly. "No one was hurt; that's what is important."

"Do you have a piece of paper or something so I can give you my information?" I ask, reaching blindly for the glove box where I keep my insurance card.

"Of course," he says, turning and jogging back to the SUV, reaching in for something. I think he might be speaking with someone in the car before he returns. "You're sure you're not hurt?"

"Just embarrassed," I say with a grimace. "It's been a very long morning..." I take the pad of paper he hands me along with the pen and start to jot down the necessary information.

As I finish up, the back passenger side door opens and another man climbs out and I commence staring. It's not every day you see a man as gorgeous as the one now approaching my car to join Sergeant Buzz Cut. He's tall, broad-shouldered, and wearing a suit that makes the first man's look cheap. His copper-colored hair is in what I think might be a state of permanent disarray and gray eyes take in the damage to our vehicles before landing on me and narrowing. That's when I know my bad day has hit its pinnacle—when I clock the way his jaw tenses in anger.

"Let me guess," he says coldly, glaring at me. "You were texting."

I frown, my mood suddenly turning towards anger. "Excuse me?" I snap, ignoring Sergeant Buzz Cut's insistence to remain in the car. "I wasn't texting, thank you very much." I flush, knowing my answer isn't much better of an excuse. "I was looking at the street signs."

Rolling his eyes and running a hand through his hair, he closes his eyes briefly before speaking again. "Are you all right?" he asks, his voice softer than before as he eyes the airbag then me as though he's checking for injuries. For a second, I let myself believe he's actually checking me out, but that thought is gone quickly.

"No, I'm fine, thank you," I reply, relaxing just a bit. I can already feel how sore my muscles are going to be later. "Again, I'm really sorry about this."

Copper Hair nods. "No real harm done," he murmurs, glancing at my car before smirking faintly. "Well, unless you're counting the car. Jason, are the police on their way?"

"Police?" I gasp. It was an accident; surely he's not going to have me arrested. Moments later, my brain catches up; of course they called the police. That is exactly what you're supposed to do after a car accident. I sigh resignedly, debating whether or not I should call my new place of work to inform them that I'll be later than I already am or if I should just grab a cab and go home after this gets sorted.

"Whoa, hey," Copper Hair says suddenly, moving around Buzz Cut to reach me. "It's not a big deal, really; accidents happen."

I can't work out why he looks so suddenly distressed until I feel the tear drops hit my hand. Another level higher for mortification: crying in front of a beautiful male specimen such as the one standing in front of me. When he reaches into his pocket for a handkerchief and hands it to me, I cry harder. "I'm sorry," I whisper again, wiping my cheeks. "I'm having a really bad day. I'm supposed to start an internship this morning and I'm already late and now I don't have a car anymore because it's probably totaled..." I shake my head, hoping this is a nightmare rather than real life and when I wake up, everything will be as it should.

"I wouldn't say it's totaled," he responds, trying to put me at ease. "Look, as soon as the police do their thing, we'll get you to your internship. What's your name?"

Sniffing, I get myself under control. "Ana," I murmur. "Ana Steele. You?"

He takes a breath to respond, but a police car is pulling up alongside us. The officers ask us the circumstances of the accident and I'm prepared to admit my guilt, but Copper Hair shoots me a glance, shaking his head minutely to stop me. I'm so surprised at the action that I close my mouth again. "It was our fault," he tells the police. "My driver was checking a message on his phone and stopped suddenly to avoid hitting a car in front of us. Unfortunately, Miss Steele's reflexes weren't as sharp. I take full responsibility."

I stare at him in shock, open-mouthed, and close it quickly when one of the officers looks at me to confirm the story. Copper's driver seems completely unaffected that his boss is blaming him for the accident and gives his own statement. Information is exchanged all around, Buzz Cut is issued a ticket, and the tow truck arrives to take my car away. "You really didn't have to do that," I tell Copper. "It was my fault."

He only shrugs. "You said yourself you're having a bad day and I doubt it would improve much to have a point on your driver's license. My insurance will cover my car and yours, so you won't have to worry about it," he says dismissively. "Come, I promised to give you a ride to work. Where are you going?"

Bemused by the events that just occurred, I automatically follow his direction, climbing into the back of the SUV. He closes the door and goes around to the other side. "Um, Grey Enterprises Holdings," I mutter as Buzz Cut begins to pull away from the curb.

Copper looks surprised at my destination, smiling slowly and narrowing his eyes at me. "Is that so?" he says thoughtfully.

"Yes," I say, confused. "Do you know where it is?"

Smirking, he glances at the rearview mirror, exchanging a look with his driver that I can only describe as amusement, though I have no idea why. "I have a vague notion," he says mysteriously. "I'm Christian, by the way."

"Nice to meet you, Christian," I reply, giving him a small smile.

"And you, Miss Steele. Though not under these circumstances."

I'm surprised when we pull up outside the GEH building after only driving a block or two. I was much closer than I thought. Buzz Cut parks the car and I unbuckle, feeling awkward all of a sudden. "Thank you for the ride," I say shyly to Christian. "And for everything else."

He studies me silently for a moment before a small graces his lips. "My pleasure, Miss Steele," he murmurs. "Perhaps we'll meet again."

The thought of seeing him again distracts me all the way to the elevators inside the building and keeps me from focusing on my tardiness for my first workday and everything that has gone wrong this morning. I'm still not entirely sure how I managed to land this internship. I applied for it at the urging of one of my teachers last fall and forgot about it completely until a few weeks ago when I received the call informing me my application was accepted. Shortly before graduation, I drove up here both to finalize paperwork. The one thing I didn't have to concern myself with was living arrangements. My best friend from college, Kate Kavanagh, planned to move to Seattle as well and her parents bought her a nice apartment. I was intimidated by both the building itself and its staff. The entire time I was here, I kept thinking there was no way I could ever fit in with all the beautiful blonde women who seemed to poised and sophisticated, and turned their noses up at my cheap clothing. I'm still having trouble believing I could actually be successful here, but this internship pays better than the others I applied for at a few small publishing houses in the area. Even though Kate won't take a dime from me for rent, there's still groceries to think about and a new wardrobe so I can at least mostly look the part at work.

I arrive on the floor where I was told to report this morning and quickly look around for my supervisor Kathy. We only met briefly when I came in to do the paperwork, but in those few minutes, I got the impression she is not someone I want to cross. Like most of the other women who work here, her blonde hair is styled without a strand out of place and she is dressed immaculately. She didn't seem nearly as judgmental as the others I met; I think she's the type to judge on ability rather than physical looks, for which I'm grateful. I spot her walking towards me and brace myself for her to tell me I've lost my internship for being late. My reasons are on the tip of my tongue, though I can't get any of them out as she reaches me.

"I'm so sorry—"

Kathy waves her hand dismissively. "Not a problem," she says, giving me a small smile. "We're just glad you're here, Ana. I'll show you to your desk and let you get settled before orientation starts."

I'm too distracted by the fact that my lateness isn't more of an issue to really take in my surroundings as Kathy leads me through a room of cubicles and stops at an empty one. "This is you," she says brightly. "Help yourself to anything in the break room and take a minute to relax. We'll be heading upstairs in about half an hour."

I smile my thanks and drop my purse on the desk that contains a phone and high-end desktop computer. Around me, a few people I assume to be fellow interns talking amongst themselves, all of them eyeing me speculatively. They're probably wondering how I got away with being this late and not even getting a stern word. Well, I'm wondering the same, but after my morning, I'm not going to question the one bit of good luck I have going for me. I pick up on parts of their conversation as they discuss the mysterious CEO who employs us. I don't really know anything about him, but if the female interns are correct, he's like some sort of unobtainable god and they all want to get their claws in them. Rolling my eyes, my thoughts drift back to Christian for the first time since I arrived. If anybody is unobtainable, particularly by me, it's him. I imagine he has women throwing themselves at him wherever he goes, all of them more beautiful and compatible for him than me.

 _Oh well_ , I muse as Kathy calls for the group of interns—ten of us altogether—to join her. It's not like I'll ever see him again.

Kathy leads the way to the elevator and we all pile inside while she explains that we're going up to the executive offices where we will be assigned departments. I'm not entirely sure what to expect from this; part of me is expecting the assignments to be handed out to everyone but me, because I don't fit in here after all and some mistake was made regarding the acceptance of my application.

"I don't remember being this nervous in my whole life," says a tall guy right around my age quietly. He's attractive in that nerdy sort of way with perfectly combed blond hair, thick black square-rim glasses, and perfectly ironed clothes.

"I haven't really had time to be nervous yet today," I say, smiling up at him. It's true; I've been more preoccupied with everything else to deal with my first real job jitters. "I'm Ana."

"Greg," he replies, holding out a hand to shake mine. When he lets go, I discreetly wipe my sweaty palm on my dress. "Any idea where you'll be assigned?"

I shake my head. "Not a clue. You?"

"I'm hoping for IT," he says, relaxing finally. "Grey's head of IT is like a living legend in the computer world."

I smile, imagining Greg would fit right in with the IT department.

We arrive on level twenty and file off into a large waiting area that's just as, if not more, impressive than the rest of the building. It's barely a minute before we're being met and greeted by yet another beautiful blonde and ushered into a large conference room not far from the elevator where we're instructed to find our name on the corresponding company welcoming packet spread in intervals around a long wooden table. The wall on right side of the door holds a table of breakfast foods, coffee, teas, and juices. Kathy tells us to help ourselves and steps outside the room to meet with a tall redheaded woman. I can't help staring for a few seconds; she's the first person I've seen here aside from interns who isn't blonde.

Shaking myself from my thoughts, I look around the table until I find my name on a packet right near the head of the table. I notice Greg's name to my left and he grins when he finds it. I smile back, wondering if I'll have to rebuff his attentions at some point. But I won't worry about that right now; so far, he's the only person who's spoken to me and he seems friendly enough. Once the crowd around the refreshments table lightens up, Greg and I stand and help ourselves. Since I burned my bagel this morning, I decide it's probably not best to tempt fate again and settle on a large muffin stuffed full with blueberries and grab a bottle of water before returning to my seat.

It's about fifteen minutes before Kathy reenters the conference room followed by the redhead and a group of people. I look between all of them, wondering which is my new employer, but none of them quite match the intensity with which the female interns were talking about his attractiveness. The redhead comes to the head of the table, smiling at everyone as they settle down.

"Good morning. Welcome to Grey Enterprises Holdings and congratulations on being accepted into our internship program. You are all among the elite few selected each year to bring new life and new views to the company and I look forward to getting to know each and every one of you. My name is Ros Bailey and I am second-in-command to Mr. Grey. I've been with the company since its beginning and as many staff members will tell you, it takes a thick skin, cunning, dedication, and determination to succeed here. This job is not for the faint at heart; though many of you are newly graduates of your respective colleges, you will not be coddled. You will be held to the highest standards expected of every employee of GEH." She pauses, looking around the table while a few people shuffle uncomfortably in their seats, clearly uncertain what it is they've gotten themselves into. I'm wondering that myself. "Rather than working yourselves into panic, be aware that help is always available should you need it. But the most important thing to know is that you are accountable for your own actions. You will become acquainted with the company rules and those rules are law and strictly enforced. So I suggest you keep your focus on your tasks, learn from your mentors, and see how far this little internship can get you."

Greg leans closer to me as Ros Bailey backs from the table and confers with a couple of men in suits. "She's not terrifying or anything," he whispers.

I stifle a smile as Ros glances our way, raising an eyebrow and smirking slightly. I look over at Greg. "And I think she heard you," I whisper back.

A sound resembling a whimper comes from Greg and he slides down in his chair. I chance a glance at Ros and she grins, winking before turning away again. I'm not aware of the cause of the sudden silence in the room until Greg inhales sharply. I look up and suddenly recall my earlier thoughts regarding the impossibility of my embarrassment level growing anymore than it had; I was wrong. All eyes are locked on the open conference room door, mine included, and I don't miss the faint smirk on Christian's lips as his eyes find me. It's only when someone addresses him as Mr. Grey do I realize the person whose car I rear-ended this morning is that of Christian Grey, CEO of this company and my new boss.

Fuck.

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 **A/N:** Yes, I'm back. Whether you consider that good news or bad, clearly you were interested enough to click on the story, so I thank you for that. If you've read, please review. There will be more soon!


	2. Chapter 2

Never before have I wished harder for the ground to open up and swallow me whole to avoid an embarrassing encounter. If I weren't frozen to my chair, I'd likely be lower in it than Greg currently is in his. While he speaks with the group of employees I think might be department heads, his gaze keeps darting to me and if I didn't know better, I'd say he is endlessly amused by my reaction. I think back to when I told him where I was headed and his obvious amusement over that; now I know why. A little forewarning would have been nice...

"I'm sorry to interrupt," Christian says to the room, finally looking away from me. "I was on my way to a meeting and I thought I'd pop in to see the new batch of recruits. I'm sure Miss Bailey has already welcomed you to the company and given you a brief explanation about what you can expect during your time here. Good luck to each of you and I look forward to getting to know you." His eyes return to me when he says the last bit and I get the impression he's talking about more than just my work ethic. With a nod to all of us, he turns on his heel and heads towards the elevator. Just before he steps in, he looks back over his shoulder at me one last time.

Trying to rid myself of the heat on my cheeks before I attract the attention of anymore of my fellow interns—a brown-haired girl sitting across from me has her eyes narrowed on my face and her lips are pursed as though she's eaten something particularly sour. I can't imagine what might have prompted that sort of reaction even if she saw the brief, silent interaction between Christian and me. I put it out of my mind for now as Kathy joins Ros at the head of the table with a folder which apparently contains our job assignments. Some people are being sent to the PR department, including the brunette across from me; two burly looking guys go to security; Greg is heading for IT as he hoped—I half expect him to start cheering; two more people go to research and development; and just as I feared, I'm the last to be assigned. I knew it. My acceptance was a mistake, or maybe Christian decided that since I couldn't even pay attention to the road I have no business working for him.

"And Miss Steele," Kathy finishes. I brace myself. "You'll be joining the acquisitions department and will report directly to Miss Bailey."

I stare at her in shock. Acquisitions? What the hell does that even mean? And why am I working for someone much higher up the chain than my fellows?

We wrap up in the conference room not long later and everyone splits off to join their respective department heads. I stand, but remain where I am while Miss Bailey has a brief conversation with somebody before joining me. "Anastasia Steele," she says, smiling as she reaches out to shake my hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Come on; we've got a lot to get through this morning..."

Feeling a little overwhelmed, I can't think of an intelligent response. "Thank you," I reply. "You, too."

I wait until we're in Miss Bailey's office before blurting out the thing I've been wondering about for the last ten minutes. "Why am I here?"

Miss Bailey turns to me, an eyebrow raised in what I hope is amusement. "I assume you mean more specifically working under me?" she asks. I nod, knotting my fingers together in front of me. "Miss Steele, whenever we get a new batch of interns, our HR department very carefully goes through every intern's qualifications and background in order to place them where they will be most successful. I admit there was a bit of a debate regarding you—at least two department heads were fighting for you—and in the end Mr. Grey stepped in to make the final decision. He believed after reviewing your information that you would fit right in with the acquisitions team which handles negotiations for company mergers from beginning to end. Not many people starting on the ground floor have found themselves in such a position. I assure you, it's a privilege."

People were fighting over me? Mr. Grey stepped in to make a final decision? When did this happen? I really hope his choice wasn't made this morning; even if it was, what would I even do about it? I suppose I could call it all a conflict of interest and hand in my resignation. The problem would be what I would do for work if I did that and I already know it's not an option. Despite our first meeting, the chances that I'll see him all that much, even working with his self-proclaimed second-in-command, probably aren't high. When I do, it will be in a business setting and nothing more. The thought is strangely disappointing, but I ignore it; I'm here to work. That's it.

All morning, Miss Bailey, who insists I call her Ros unless we're with other people, familiarizes me with a few of the projects I'll be working on and I find her company enjoyable. She's more laid back than the other employees here and doesn't seem to have a problem telling anybody what's on her mind. I wonder if that's the case with Mr. Grey as well; the irritation in his eyes from this morning returns to mind and with the way Ros talks about him, that's a normal thing. It doesn't surprise me that she doesn't seem intimidated by him the way everyone else is; actually, she talks about him like he's more like a little brother than her boss.

Over lunch that we have in her office, she tells me about her partner Gwen, and asks me whether I have a boyfriend. I almost laugh at the question. The only men I've been involved with are fictional characters in books. She tells me to give it time and to keep my priorities in line, and eventually the right one will show up in the most unlikely of places.

 _Such as the person you rear end with your car because you're too busy looking at street signs to pay attention?_

The thought is startling and I shake it off. I seem to be doing that a lot today, though only with the thoughts that pertain to Mr. Grey. Somehow I think it will be a little more difficult to work near him than I was hoping.

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The rest of the day is hectic and probably an accurate summation of what I can expect during my time here. It's a little overwhelming and some of the people we meet with are intimidating, but all in all, I think I'll enjoy being here. I don't want to admit to myself much less out loud, but as the end of the day comes closer, I feel a little disappointed to not have seen Christian since this morning. I know better than to ask Ros about him; I'm sure she fields employee questions about him all the time and I don't want her to think I'm obsessed with him the way my fellow interns seem to be.

"Well, Ana, I think it's safe to say you survived your first day," Ros says, grinning as I hand back the stack of folders she wanted me to review. "Well done."

I smile self-consciously, uncertain what it is I did that seems to have made an impression on her. "It's been interesting," I say quietly.

She laughs. "You'll get used to it," she promises me. "Once you're up to your elbows in research before a negotiation session, you'll be right at home."

We both look up at the knock on Ros's closed office door and she calls for the visitor to enter. My stomach drops when Christian enters the office, his eyes darting briefly between Ros and me. "Have you got those contracts for me?" he asks Ros, coming to stand beside me in front of Ros's desk. "I'll need them first thing in the morning—Charles wants a breakfast meeting rather than coming here because his daughter is going into labor and he needs to get home." There is a frown on his face as though he doesn't think this is good enough a reason to need a change in meeting times. I subtly roll my eyes as Ros digs in her desk for the paperwork. "Miss Steele, I trust your first day went well?" I look up and find him looking back with a raised eyebrow and a smirk.

"Yes, Mr. Grey, it did, thank you," I reply curtly. Out of the corner of my eyes, I can see Ros freeze in her action to watch our interaction.

"Glad to hear it," he says briskly, taking a folder from Ros. "If you're finished with Miss Steele for the evening, Ros, I thought I might borrow her momentarily."

Ros's eyes widen—clearly seeing Christian Grey not only speak to an intern, know her name, and request her assistance with something on her very first day is a first. "Um, sure, Christian," she replies, bemused. "Ana, we'll see you tomorrow I hope."

I stand, wondering if I could get away with declining Mr. Grey's request so I can just go home and eat ice cream until this day straight from the _Twilight Zone_ comes to an end. "I'll be here, Miss Bailey," I say, smiling tightly as I stand and retrieve my purse and jacket. Grey is waiting at the open door, watching my every move. We walk farther down the hall and I try not to startle when he places his hand at the small of my back, guiding me into his office. It's probably double the size of Ros's and much more impressive.

"I'm sure you're wondering why I didn't tell you who I was this morning," he says, leaning against his desk with his legs crossed at the ankle.

"The thought had crossed my mind," I mutter, fighting between wanting to be pissed at him and not wanting to get fired on my very first day.

He smiles. "You were having a rough enough morning as it was," he explains. "I didn't want to pile it on any higher. I knew what you had ahead of you today and you were upset; I didn't want to make it worse."

"So you just let me walk blindly in here without a warning?" I ask archly. "Is this payback for hitting your car?"

His good mood seems to fade in seconds. "Payback?" he repeats coldly. "Miss Steele, I assure you that the omission of my identity is in no way some form of 'payback.' If that were the case and had I wanted 'payback,' do you really think I would have allowed my head of security to take the fall for a car accident? I get that you had a bad day; we all have them, but need I remind you that I am your employer and I do not appreciate the accusations or your tone. I am willing to let this issue drop for now as it's not the reason I asked you into my office."

I feel about two inches tall right now, smaller when I realize I've just snapped at my boss's boss who apparently was nice enough to assign me to work with Ros. Tempting though it is to demand an explanation for this, I know better than to push my luck right now. "So why am I here?" I ask, unable to keep a hint of petulance from my tone.

The cold, domineering façade fades away slowly, softening until there is a hint of a smile on his lips. "I wanted to ask how you're feeling," he says quietly. "You don't always feel the pain immediately after an accident, but it tends to hit pretty quickly."

I relax and even manage a smile. "I'm okay," I answer. "A little sore and I'm sure tomorrow will be hell, but I'll manage."

"If you need some time off to see a doctor, it won't be a problem," he says, concerned. "Or if you just want to recover..."

I shake my head. "Really, it's okay," I insist. "I'll take a bath tonight and I'm sure that will help."

He swallows hard and his eyes darken while he looks me over and I flush deeply, wondering what he's thinking and why I suddenly feel so exposed in front of him. "Well, I certainly hope that is the case," he says, his voice husky. "How are you getting home?"

For some reason, my heart is racing and I get the impression he's talking about something else entirely. "Um, I was going to get a cab," I answer, my own voice turning breathy.

He looks torn for a moment then shakes his head at himself, I think. "I would offer you a ride, but I'll be here another few hours. I could ask Taylor to drive you..."

"I think Taylor has done me enough favors for the day," I say wryly. "Thank you, though. The cab will be fine; I've got a few stops to make first anyway."

Resigned and not liking it, Grey nods. "As you wish, Miss Steele," he mutters, the shutters dropping over his eyes and blocking out his thoughts. "Enjoy your evening and do try to be on time tomorrow."

My mouth drops open slightly at his teasing and try for my best glare. The effect is ruined by the stupid grin on my lips. "Good night, Mr. Grey."

With that, I turn to leave the office, determined not to look at him over my shoulder as I stride to the elevators, hoping like hell I don't trip over my feet and make an idiot of myself in front of him anymore than I already have. The elevator makes a few stops on its way to the ground floor and I shuffle back into the corner until the doors open at the fifteenth floor and two of my fellow interns step in. The first is Greg who looks like Christmas has come early for him and the brunette woman who was glaring at me in the conference room this morning.

"Hey, Ana," Greg says cheerfully, joining me at the back of the elevator. The brunette purses her lips but follows him. "This is Rebecca; she's in the PR department."

"Hi," I say, smiling politely. What I really want to do is ask her why she's glaring that hard at me when we've never exchanged a single word.

"Hello," she says coolly, looking me up and down, smirking when she's finished.

"How was your day?" Greg asks. "Working with the execs; that's pretty cool."

I smile at him, looking away from Rebecca. "It was good. I'm sure it will be a really enlightening experience. How was yours?"

Greg launches into a complete recap of his day and when he starts talking technical jargon, I try to fight the glazing of my eyes as I struggle to keep up. I think it's fair to say his day was fantastic. By the time he finishes, he's almost vibrating with excitement. "So a few of us are going to grab a beer to celebrate our first day. You in?" He looks so like a hopeful puppy that I almost don't want to turn him down.

"I'll have to take a rain check," I say apologetically. Honestly, a few beers sounds like the perfect end to this strange day, but I have too much to do at home. "I was in a car accident this morning and I need to deal with the aftermath."

Greg's eyes widen. "Oh," he says in surprise, frowning in concern as we finally reach the ground floor and head out of the building. I don't miss how Rebecca walks quickly in an attempt to get away from us—well, from me, at least. "Are you all right? Do you need a lift home?"

I inwardly roll my eyes, really tiring of answering the "are you okay?" question. "No, I'm good," I assure him.

"Miss Steele."

I look around for the person who said my name and find Sergeant Buzz Cut quickly approaching me. "Oh, hi," I say awkwardly. What do you say to the person whose boss made him take the blame for a car accident for which you're at fault?

He smiles kindly. "A cab is waiting for you outside," he informs me briskly.

"Oh," I say, surprised. "Um, thank you."

He nods respectively and retreats back to wherever it is he goes.

"Perk of being on the executive team?" Greg mutters as we leave.

"Hmm," I murmur in response. I really don't want to get into the particulars of my car accident, especially the part about how I hit the SUV carrying my new, super wealthy, super hot CEO employer. "Something like that, I guess."

Outside the cab, Greg looks torn about whether to leave me here or not. From across the street, someone calls from him outside where I assume they're going to have their drinks. Before Greg can do much more of anything, like ask for a phone number or try again to convince me to come have a drink, I tell him good-bye and climb into the back of the cab.

* * *

Two hours later, we're pulling up to my apartment building and the driver jumps out to help me carry my groceries and shopping bags despite my insistence that I could handle it. At my apartment door, I dig for my wallet to pay the fare, but the driver shakes his head, smiling.

"All taken care of," he tells me. "Have a good evening, Miss."

"Um, thanks," I say uncertainly as he walks away. As I unlock my door, I realize Christian must have not only had Buzz Cut—Taylor, I remind myself—call the cab, but arranged to pay the fare and probably a generous tip on top of it. I want to be angry, or at the very least annoyed, but the truth is I'm exhausted following a shitty morning and a long, busy day, and I'm grateful that I didn't have to spend who knows how long trying to get a cab or ending up having to walk.

Boxes are strewn throughout the apartment. I haven't had much opportunity to unpack what with preparing for my first day at work, getting to know a new city, and struggling with the whole being here alone thing. I won't be alone long; my college best friend Kate will be here in a few weeks. Her grandfather died the day after graduation and between the funeral and a family vacation, she's had an eventful time recently. I talked to her briefly last night and she seemed eager to get here. Apparently she's had enough family time and just wants to get back to her life. She wished me luck for today—fat lot of good that did—and told me to give her a call tonight. There is a lot to share with her, but for some reason, I want to keep parts of it to myself. Like the way Christian looked at me, almost like he was undressing me with his eyes. Or how much I like his smile and that along with his kindness woke something inside me that I didn't know I possessed.

It hits me suddenly after I take delivery of a pizza that I'm attracted to Christian Grey. Really attracted and that is quite possibly the most dangerous thing I could have done, which for me is really saying something. The man is my employer and even with my limited romantic experience, I know it's profoundly stupid to get involved with a co-worker, much less the man who signs your paycheck. Besides, I know for a fact I'm not the only woman at GEH whose thoughts are preoccupied by Christian Grey; every woman in that conference room this morning had her eyes locked on him, and a few guys, too. Even Ros who I know doesn't swing that way seemed a little captivated by him.

As I sip my wine, eat my pizza, and watch a bit of much needed mind-numbing television, I know what I need to do is ignore him as much as is possible and keep any relationship between us strictly professional. I'm not looking to date anybody right now—not after my last disaster of a date—and he's way out of my league, anyway, so what could we possibly have in common? He was being kind this morning after the accident because I was upset; he didn't tell me who he was because he didn't want to make things worse; he asked to see me this afternoon because I am in his employ and he probably wants to ensure whatever projects I work on won't suffer. Now if I can actually convince myself of all of that, I'll be good.

* * *

 **A/N:** So I wasn't planning on updating so soon, but I also wasn't expecting the response I got to chapter one. Thanks to everyone who reviewed. I wouldn't get used to daily updates as I've just started a new job and that's keeping me busy, but maybe a couple times a week. More story soon!


	3. Chapter 3

Much to my relief, I only see Christian once or twice during the rest of the week and those interactions are strictly business, though I did catch him watching me a few times. My position as Ros's intern is stressful enough in theory, but in practice, I wasn't even under this much pressure in college. I'm enjoying it, though, and Ros is being quite patient with me as I learn the ropes. My fellow interns seem to have stress of their own; most of us meet up in the cafeteria for lunch and a few people are showing signs of strain, even Greg whose excitement to work with GEH's head of IT seems to be a memory at this point. Everyone is relieved on Friday morning; we've survived our first week and it should be all uphill from there. Or at least that's what we're hoping.

"Morning, Ana," Ros says distractedly when I enter her office. She's bent over a short conference table sorting out pieces of paper. "Listen, I wasn't planning on doing this until you were here for a few more weeks, but shit's about to hit the fan and Mr. Grey is about to blow his top. I know it's last minute, but I need you to accompany us to Taiwan this evening. I hope your passport is up to date."

I stare at her open-mouthed. "Um..." I say. "I don't have a passport." The words come out weak and they're not even the ones I intended to speak.

Ros turns to look at me, smirking. "Then I suggest you get down to HR and take care of that," she informs me. "After that, go home and pack a bag or two. We'll be gone until Monday morning at least."

"Okay," I say, feeling like I ran into a brick wall. "I guess I'll be back then."

* * *

Throughout my walk to HR, I wonder why I'm going on this trip—my first outside the continental US. I'm only an intern and have barely gotten my toes wet in my job. What could I possibly have to offer? Then I recall what Ros said about Christian; is he going, too? Oh, this could be bad, though I can't deny being a little excited at the prospect of spending time with him, even if we are working.

Shaking myself, I focus instead on the fact that for the first time in my life, I'm leaving the country—to China no less. All I know about China is that I occasionally enjoy the food when I order takeout. It will definitely be a learning experience...

I arrive at HR and tell the receptionist why I'm here, and she directs me to an office where a no-nonsense woman with icy blue eyes and short gray hair is waiting to usher me inside. "I'll need your driver's license, Miss Steele. We have everything else on file, but your address needs updating."

Luckily I took care of my change of address last week and was issued my Washington State driver's license that same day. The woman, Tracy Seagel according to the nameplate on her desk, looks through everything, nodding to herself. "Everything looks to be in order," she mutters. "Stand against the wall behind you, push the hair off your face, and look straight at the light. No smiling." She indicates said light on a camera across from me. A second later, she pushes a button on her computer and I'm momentarily blinded by the camera flash. "And you are all set, Miss Steele. Your passport will be completed and waiting for you before you leave this afternoon."

Whiplash is the only way I can think of to describe my passport experience. Somehow I don't think it would have been so easy and painless if I didn't work here, but I'm certainly not going to complain about it. With that taken care of, I start to leave the building to head home and pack a bag. I dig out the key for the rental car that showed up in front of my apartment the morning after the accident, knowing immediately who was behind it. I would have settled for something simple and boring; instead, until I get my car back, I'm driving around a sleek silver Saab that has all the bells and whistles. I'll be disappointed when I have to give it back, but the monthly insurance payment on the little Ford my mother, her current husband Bob, and my stepfather Ray all chipped in for is high enough. I don't even want to imagine what it would be for this thing. Still, I'll enjoy it while I can.

I'm singing along with the radio on the way to my apartment where I quickly find my best clothes and shoes for this trip. After my first day, I did a bit of wardrobe shopping so I could at least look like I might fit in with everyone else there. The things I chose aren't exactly designer, but they look nice and they're new. I'm already planning on a shopping trip with my first GEH paycheck when Kate gets here; that will make her happy. I hate shopping and she knows it.

With my one suitcase and the knapsack I always travel with, I get back into my rental car to return to GEH. On my way to the building from the underground garage, something across the street catches my attention. I look over and stop in my steps, my jaw dropping when I recognize who I'm seeing and I feel the blood drain from my face. Time stops as we lock eyes and he smirks. When he starts crossing the street, I still can't move even though I know the moment I walk into Grey House I'll be safe.

Suddenly, and with perfect timing, someone touches me on the shoulder, causing me to jump and yelp. I turn to find Taylor looking at me in concern; I look back over my shoulder and breathe a sigh of relief when I realize he's gone.

"Are you all right, Miss Steele?" Taylor asks, scanning the sidewalks and street as though searching for the cause of my distress.

I force a tight smile. "Yes, of course," I say. "I thought I saw someone I knew..."

He narrows skeptical eyes on me, then turns away to scan the area around us. "While you're away this weekend, we'll keep your car here for you. I understand you're driving a rental; do you have an extra key in case of emergency?"

"Oh, um, yes," I say, digging for the car keys. I take one off the ring and hand it to Taylor. "Thank you."

He nods. "I'll walk you into the building. Your suitcase will be taken ahead to the airport."

Okay, working at this place is really starting to give me more whiplash. Everyone here is so efficient and five steps ahead of my thoughts. I suppose that is why Christian is so successful; he has the right people doing what they're supposed to do before they're told to do it. I don't think I'm one of them, but for now I'm letting it go.

Taylor silently walks me all the way to the elevator and gives me a smile as the doors close. It's only then that I remember why he walked

* * *

me. Sighing, I lean against the elevator wall, retrieving my cell phone from my purse to text Kate, because if I wait to tell her, she'll be pissed. The doors open just as I'm finishing my message and I step out as I close my phone and run right into that brick wall I thought I hit earlier.

"I am so sorry..." I look up and feel my face flush when I find Christian Grey pressed right up against me, his hands on my shoulders to keep me from falling backwards. "Mr. Grey... I..."

He smiles down at me and takes a step back. "You know, Miss Steele, if we keep running into each other like this I'm going to start thinking it's intentional." His gray eyes are bright with amusement. "Are you all right?"

"Aside from being completely mortified, yes," I mutter.

He chuckles and a little of that mortification fades slightly. "As I understand it, you'll be joining us in Taiwan this weekend," he says, looking at me appraisingly. "Do you think you're ready for that?"

"Not even a little," I answer wryly.

I think I like his laugh even more than his chuckle, particularly how he tips his head back when he does it. "Honesty, Miss Steele. I like it," he says, still smiling. "If it's any consolation, Ros speaks very highly of you and I think you'll be a credit to our business."

If I were another kind of girl, I'd be a simpering mess at his feet. As it is, I'm gaping at him like an idiot, unable to form full sentences. Thankfully, his secretary calls for his attention before I have to come up with something. He looks annoyed at the interruption, but gives me a tight smile that I think means he's dismissing me. I'm happy for the escape; I need to figure out some way to be around this man and still have the ability to function and I need to figure it out very quickly or this is going to turn out to be a really long weekend.

* * *

As promised, my brand-new passport was ready and delivered to me before it was time to leave the airport. Ros gave me the bullet points of why we're going to Taiwan on the ride over. GEH is attempting to acquire a parts factory in Taiwan to help in the manufacturing of various green energy products. The problem is that another company is vying for the same factory and GEH is having trouble doing negotiations from half a world away. Our job is to come up with an incentive package good enough to entice the Taiwanese into selling to GEH. Normally this is something Ros would do on her own, but apparently it's something Christian is very passionate about and he doesn't want to leave anything to chance.

"One of the problems is the other company in the negotiation is claiming we're going to take the patents, the machinery, close down the factory, and put all the workers out of work," Ros says, reviewing something in a folder. "Which is not what we're doing at all. Christian has always been adamant about not taking away jobs whenever possible. If we can get this factory under GEH supervision, we'll get it on track, upgrade the facilities, even increase pay and benefits for the workers, and everything they manufacture will go to one of the factories we have here in the US, which will provide them with more job opportunities. The whole thing is a win-win-win for everyone, but people think they can undercut Christian Grey and those are the people who suffer."

If I weren't already distracted by his impossibly good looks, this would put me over the edge where Christian is concerned. He seems to be going way out of his way to help whoever he can while still increasing his bottom line and that isn't something a lot of companies follow through on despite whatever they might promise.

In less than forty-five minutes, our car is pulling onto a tarmac at SeaTac and my eyes immediately locate the large jet with the GEH logo on the side. Because _of course_ Christian has his own plane...

"Looks like we're still waiting on the boss man," Ros mutters as we climb out the back of the car. "Good, we can get settled and comfortable before he boards and starts barking out orders. Hope you're not planning on a quiet, relaxing flight; he'll want to jump right into this thing."

My phone rings as we reach the stairs up to the jet. Ros tells me to take my time, continuing on her way. I sigh when I see the caller ID. I was hoping Kate wouldn't get my message until much later, like when we're several thousand feet in the air while my phone is shut off. "Hi, Kate," I say resignedly, walking around the side of the plane.

"Ana! What the hell? Are you okay?" she asks, panicked.

"Yes, of course, I'm fine. He didn't actually get anywhere near me," I say comfortingly.

She sighs. "What happened?" she says, slightly more calm.

I tell her about the sighting earlier as well as how Taylor joined me on the sidewalk and escorted me back into work. "What I want to know is how he found you," Kate says broodingly. "How long's it been?"

"Almost a year," I answer with a sigh of my own. "And yes, how he found me is a very valid question. The only people who knew I was leaving Portland for Seattle were my parents and José."

"Well I think we can rule out José as the big mouth," she says seriously. I roll my eyes. "Ana, you need to call the police. If he figured out where you work, he'll probably figure out where you live."

I pinch the bridge of my nose to help ward off a headache. "I will when I get back to Seattle," I promise her. "Apparently, I'm going to Taiwan for the weekend for work."

"Holy shit, Steele," she exclaims, impressed. "Someone seriously likes you there."

"Yes, it would be my boss," I say tiredly. She's been giving me shit all week about the accident on Monday and then my discovery as highest ranked intern shortly after. Of course she's only teasing, but it hits on my insecurities about whether I'm actually qualified enough to do this job. "Anyway, the plane is leaving soon, so I should get going."

"Sure. Have fun, bring me back something nice, and I'll talk to my dad about the douchebag stalker," she says briskly.

If I argue, it will only make my headache worse, so I agree and start to end the call. "To our credit, security at the new apartment is pretty great. I'm sure if I have a talk with the building manager they'll be willing to keep an eye out."

"Good idea," Kate says. "I'll get on that, too."

I switch off my phone and for the second time today, nearly run into my boss. He's grinning at me. Again. "For once, Miss Steele, I think that would have been my fault," he says. "I just arrived and wanted to make sure you didn't miss the flight."

"Oh, thank you," I say, stashing my phone and keeping my face averted so he can't see the blush on my face. I expect him to turn around and lead the way to the plane, but he remains in place. Two long fingers touch my chin and gently raise my head, forcing me to meet his gaze. His amusement from the last few meetings we've had is gone, replaced by what I think might be concern.

"Is everything all right?" he asks softly, searching my expression for clues. "You sounded upset on the phone."

Great. I can't even keep my personal life out of my professional life for a week. "Yes, everything is fine," I lie, causing him to frown as though he knows I'm lying. "Maybe not fine, but it's nothing that will affect my work."

"I wasn't asking if it will affect your work," he says evenly. "I'm asking why you're upset."

For a second, I almost tell him, unable to ignore that expectant raised eyebrow he's fixing me with, but we're interrupted. "Christian, time to take off," Ros calls from the stairs of the plane. Christian sighs, rolling his eyes and shooting me a look that tells me this conversation isn't over, and gestures for me to follow him onto the plane. Ros watches us approach together with what I think might be amusement in her eyes, but she clearly knows better than to say anything. At the door of the plane, Christian places a hand at the small of my back, allowing me to go ahead of him inside. For a moment, I'm too distracted by the feeling of his hand on me and how perfectly his large hand fits against me, then wondering how that hand and its mate would feel on other parts of me.

 _Dangerous thoughts..._

It's then that I finally notice my surroundings—the lavish, large interior that looks so much comfortable for flying than a commercial airliner. "In you go, Miss Steele," Christian says softly, right against my ear when I just stand in place, staring around. Realizing people are staring at me like some sort of sideshow exhibition. Flushing deeply, I make my way forward, taking a seat next to Ros when she indicates that I should. To my surprise and delight, Christian takes the seat directly across from me, his expression once again one of humor.

A suit I haven't yet met takes a seat beside him and gives me a bright all-American boy smile complete with dimples. Along with his bright blue eyes and messy, almost-too long blond hair, he's exactly the type of guy that turns heads everywhere he goes, much like the copper-haired man at his right. "Brandon Riley," he says, holding out a hand to shake mine. "I don't think we've had the pleasure of meeting yet."

He holds my hand a fraction longer than what is typically considered appropriate. "Ana Steele," I reply quietly with my own smile. "Intern."

"I'm from legal," he explains. "I get all the contracts drawn up."

My eyes dart to Christian who is looking between Brandon and me with an unreadable expression and narrowed eyes. I can almost taste the building tension. With perfect timing, the jet doors are closed and we're all told to buckle up as we begin taxiing down the runway. Unlike commercial flights, takeoff is smooth and not nearly as uncomfortable as I recall and I'm grateful; I'm not particularly eager to make myself look any more unprofessional than I have in front of Christian today by gripping my arm rests for dear life during takeoff as I normally do.

Once the plane is leveled off in the air, a flight attendant brings drinks, informing us dinner will be served in thirty minutes. I only realize now that I haven't eaten today and I'm hungry, though I have to wonder how gourmet food prepared at 30,000 feet could actually be. While the other three sip their gin and tonics, I opt for a non-alcoholic Coke, at least until I've eaten. It wouldn't do anybody any good for me to get air sick simply because I'm drinking on an empty stomach. Christian is watching me, lips twitching as I sip my soda, then turns to Ros, asking for the latest information on the situation in Taiwan. I listen attentively as the others talk through the issues, trying to brainstorm possible solutions.

Christian seems frustrated by the whole thing, insisting that there must be a simple answer to this problem, but nobody is able to provide one. "The key is gaining their trust," he tells us. "Without that, there is no fucking point to any of this."

"And of course they're going to be more likely to distrust Americans," Ros sighs. "Though by now I'd have thought your reputation would have preceded you worldwide, Christian." She smirks, managing to get a brief smile from him. "Look, if we can somehow show them that selling to us would be more than beneficial to them rather than watching pieces of the damn place being sold to the highest bidder which I guarantee is Li's plan if he gets his grubby hands on it, we're golden."

"You think I don't know that, Ros?" Christian snaps, running his hand through his hair. "The only reason Li is interested is because we are. That bastard's goal is to undermine me at every fucking turn..."

The flight attendant returns with trays of dinner that look as though they were prepared at a five-star restaurant. My surprise must show on my face because Christian is smirking with amusement at me again. I'm glad he finds me so amusing. Now I'm starting to wonder if he's making fun of me since I've never been surrounded with such luxury until I started working at GEH. I was enjoying that smirk he sends me every so often, but now I'm finding it annoying.

"So Ana, you graduated college recently, I take it?" Brandon asks. I suppose dinner puts the brainstorming on pause for the time being. I can only nod, taking a sip of Coke to wash down my chicken. "What was your major? Business, economics?"

I flush. "English Literature, actually," I admit quietly.

Surprise is evident on his face. "And how did you end up at GEH?" he asks almost incredulously as though he can't believe I'm actually here. Well, that makes two of us.

"One of my professors suggested I apply for the internship last fall and since I hadn't quite made up my mind about what I wanted to do after graduation at that point, I did. I guess I just got lucky," I say, shrugging. What other explanation is there?

"No such thing as luck," Christian interjects quietly. "Ana ended up at GEH because she showed the most promise of all the applicants. One look at her application and I knew we'd be making a huge mistake passing her up."

I want to ask him what it was about my application that stuck out, because I can't think of anything that might have caught his eye. I didn't really participate in any clubs or extracurricular activities, and certainly no sports. I'm plain, clumsy, and typically categorized as a nerd since I tend to prefer curling up on the couch to read than going out to party, much to Kate's exasperation.

"I have to say I agree with you on that point, Grey," Brandon says, looking at me with an expression that I don't think has anything to do with my qualifications, or lack thereof, or my position at GEH in the slightest.

Christian's jaw tenses as he apparently sees the same thing I am. I imagine GEH has a no-fraternization policy and he probably enforces it to the letter. That revelation puts a stop on any thoughts I've had about Christian and me, not that I really believed any of them had a chance of becoming real. And Brandon... Well, yes, he's attractive, but I suspect that's a fact he's more than aware of and he uses it to his advantage at every opportunity, and I sincerely doubt there is any shortage of women throwing themselves at him—or Christian, for that matter. No, if there were to be any workplace romance for me, Greg would be the better choice. He's sweet, funny, attractive in that nerdy sort of way, and I already know he's interested. Not that I have any real intention of getting involved with him or anyone else.

When our dinner is cleared away, the four of us move to a larger table towards the back of the plane and for the first time, I spot Taylor sitting in a corner, reading and sipping a bottle of beer. He gives me a small smile and a nod as I pass him and wave. Once again, the three people around me are heavy in brainstorming and I simply watch and absorb; it's fascinating. To my surprise, Christian listens to every word from Ros and Brandon and weighs every possible option instead of insisting his ideas are better than theirs. And all the suggestions are good, but they don't seem to be good enough. I don't think they're far off; I can almost come up with a suggestion of my own, it's just out of reach...

"What do you think, Anastasia?" Christian asks quietly. It's the first time any of them has addressed me directly in this brainstorm process and it startles me briefly, though I manage to hide it well enough for once.

With all eyes on me, I sit up a little straighter and think through everything I've heard them say and try to reach a conclusion. "The way I see it, the only thing we need to prove is that our intentions are better than the other company's. Ros—um, Miss Bailey," I quickly correct myself, though Christian has that smirk again, "showed me a bit of background on this other company and from what I've seen, their track record with this sort of thing isn't great; within a year of acquiring whatever company they acquire, they manage to run it into the ground and cover it by saying it's the economy or that technology has evolved. GEH doesn't have that sort of track record. So we could go in there swinging and throwing around accusations about their inability to follow through on their promises or we can present our case, watch them present theirs, and watch them hang themselves. If the company we're trying to acquire is uneasy about dealing with Americans, they're going to believe all the stereotypes and expect us to stomp all over everything to stake our claim. Walking in quietly and respectfully will throw everyone off their game and might be the key to getting what we want."

Christian cocks his head to the side, frowning thoughtfully. "Interesting suggestion, Miss Steele," he murmurs, rubbing his top lip with a long finger. "Let's say they accept our terms, but want to sell at a lower price. What then?"

"The price currently on the table from GEH is more than fair, especially if the Taiwanese want to ensure job security and everything else they are concerned about. If they don't take the offer as is, I think the best course of action would be to call their bluff. We step back and they'll realize we are the best option to take."

Christian and Ros exchange an impressed look and Brandon is nodding thoughtfully, jotting down notes in a tablet with a stylus. "So you don't think we should offer any further incentives or sweeten the pot?" Ros asks.

"I don't think we need to," I answer, turning towards her. "As it currently stands, our offer is twenty times better than anything else they've received so far; they'd be foolish to turn it down."

"I agree," Christian says quietly, studying me closely. "If I may ask, when did you begin reading up on this particular project?"

I flush. "This afternoon," I answer.

Ros smirks and snorts a laugh. "I knew you'd be handy to have around, Ana."

"Indeed," Christian agrees. There is something I can't quite identify in his expression, but it has me shifting uncomfortably in my seat. Finally he pulls his gaze away from me. "Brandon, let's go over the terms once more so everyone is familiar with the deal. Ros, if you and Anastasia will finalize a meeting time with the factory owners, I'd like to start get the ball rolling by tomorrow morning at the latest."

Ros nods and we make our way towards the front of the jet. "Impressive, Ana," she says quietly as we take our seats again while she sets up her laptop. "I think you're the first executive intern that hasn't annoyed Christian within the first five minutes due to intimidation."

I smile. "I suppose I've just learned to hide feelings of intimidation," I reply. Though I'm referring to more than just Christian, I keep that to myself. "I figured the worst that could happen is he'd send me away if my ideas weren't good enough and I would spend the rest of the flight reading."

"Sorry to disappoint you," Ros says jokingly. "And just so you know, now that you've showed you have the potential to succeed at GEH, Christian is going to be keeping an eye on you. Most interns are too busy drooling when they first meet him to be of any real use."

It already seems as though he's been keeping a close eye on me since we first met and now I'm being told that is only going to get worse? "Is that supposed to make me feel less nervous?" I ask.

Ros laughs. "Don't be nervous. Just keep doing what you did today. Don't be afraid to say I don't know. Watch, listen, and learn; I guarantee you'll have a good future with GEH."

For the first time since Monday morning, I begin to believe I might find that I do belong here.

* * *

 **A/N:** Thank you to everyone who's read/reviewed/PMed so far. More story next week!


	4. Chapter 4

Although I realized the time difference between Seattle and Taiwan is about fifteen hours and our flight time twelve hours, when we finally land and climb into an SUV to take us to our hotel, I'm thrown off kilter. Having never experienced jet lag, I don't realize that's what this is until Brandon comments on it. I managed to fall asleep for a few hours on the plane while Ros and Brandon did the same, but I don't think Christian slept at all even though he seems completely alert and aware of our surroundings.

It's just after eight p.m. and I'm exhausted. All I want is to crawl into a bed and sleep for the next twelve hours, but clearly the boss has other ideas. He insists on treating us all to dinner before checking into the hotel and nobody has the energy to argue with him. Our driver takes us to what looks to be a fancy Chinese restaurant and just from what I see of the outside, I seriously doubt there will be any little paper containers full of rice, chicken, and vegetables or even wooden chopsticks here.

Inside, Christian pulls out my chair for me, then sits down beside me and peruses the menu. Our server approaches the table and he speaks fluent Chinese to place an order for what I think might be a bottle of wine while I'm left to stare dumbly at him. He catches my stare and smiles when I turn away, blushing.

"Anything look good to you?" he asks quietly, leaning towards me a little. Across the table Ros and Brandon are conversing about... something; it's difficult to pay attention when Christian is this near.

For a second, I almost say _yes, you!_ but I manage to refrain. "Um, I'm not sure," I say, turning back to the menu. "I'm accustomed to ordering takeout from paper menus."

He chuckles. "Allow me, then," he suggests, reaching over to point something out to me. "I eat here every time I visit; it never disappoints."

"Okay," I reply quietly, wondering why my voice is so high-pitched and whether anyone else has noticed. Judging by the grin on his face, Christian has.

Everyone seems to relax over dinner and wine. Brandon, Ros, and I talk while Christian prefers to sit back and listen, occasionally offering his two cents on whatever happens to be our topic of choice. Clearly he isn't the talkative sort, but I figured that out pretty early on after meeting him. He keeps his private life private and even while Ros talks about her partner and Brandon talks about his girlfriend, I haven't heard Christian mention anything about being in a relationship. I don't have much to say on that subject either; the only relationship I've had turned into a nightmare that I'm still living and it doesn't make for good dinner conversation. Or any conversation for that matter...

After dinner, we head to the hotel and if I was less tired, I'd probably be staring in wide-eyed amazement at our surroundings. Much like the restaurant, I've never stayed in such a nice place. Only the best for GEH employees it seems. Ros hands out room keys and we all pile into the elevator to take us to the top floor. I'm not particularly surprised when Christian heads for the penthouse suite, though I get the impression our rooms will be almost as nice.

"Right next to me, then," Brandon says with an unmistakably flirty tone.

I raise an eyebrow to myself, recalling how just an hour ago he was talking about the girlfriend he'd been seeing for two years on and off. Now I think I know why it's "off". Before entering my room, I feel a set of eyes burning into my skull and look down the hall to find Christian watching Brandon and me closely, frowning in what might be annoyance. Perhaps it's that fraternization thing?

Whatever the reason, in order to get away from both of them, I open my room door and slip inside, quickly closing it behind me. Just as I expected, my hotel room is nicer than my apartment. The huge bed is calling my name as is the shower, so I head into the bathroom first to get cleaned up before collapsing in the bed, reaching for the remote for the large wall-mounted television. I manage to find an American sitcom with Chinese subtitles and settle into the pillows until sleep finally finds me.

* * *

I wake suddenly around five in the morning and sit straight up in my bed, disoriented as I look around. After a few deep breaths, I remember I'm in a hotel in Taiwan with my co-workers and I manage to relax myself somewhat. I can't remember the last time I had a nightmare like that and blame the jet lag or perhaps yesterday's sighting outside the GEH building. This trip couldn't have come at a better time; leaving Seattle was the right choice for now even though I know I will still have to deal with it when I get home.

Knowing I'll never get back to sleep now, I get out of bed and carefully dress since today we will be in business meetings for who knows how long. I then grab my purse and room key before heading out of the room and downstairs to the restaurant I spotted when we walked into the hotel last night. I don't know a word of Chinese, but perhaps I can manage to get a cup of tea...

To my surprise, the moment I walk inside I spot the back of a copper-colored head of hair and hesitate. Should I join him or pretend I didn't even see him? I have no idea what the proper protocol is for spotting your boss's boss in a hotel in a foreign country. Rolling my eyes at myself, I decide to take my chances. Locating tea is simple; there is a buffet of breakfast foods and coffee and teabags, so I make myself a plate, wondering how I could be this hungry after last night's meal. Again, I blame the jet lag. When I turn around to find a place to sit, Christian is watching me with a small smile on his face. He nods at the chair beside him which makes my decision about whether to join him.

"Good morning, Miss Steele," he says, watching as I dunk my English Breakfast tea into a mug of hot water for 2.5 seconds before spooning it out and setting it aside. "I'm surprised to see you awake. Normally I have to make wake-up calls following a long flight like yesterday's."

I shrug, spreading cream cheese over a bagel. "I woke up and couldn't get back to sleep," I answer honestly. "And I didn't see much point lying in bed all morning."

He smiles. "Same as me, then," he says, drinking his coffee. "I find it difficult to sleep right before an important acquisition." For some reason, it seems like an oddly personal thing for him to share and I smile to myself. "I have to say, I was impressed with your suggestions yesterday, Anastasia. Sometimes I forget that there is a simple solution to a problem and over complicate things. That's where the people I have around me come in handy."

"So I've come in handy?" I ask without thinking, inwardly wincing at the suggestive tone with which I speak the words.

His eyebrows rise and his mouth falls open slightly in surprise, and I wait for him to chide me, but he doesn't. Instead he smirks, his gray eyes bright with amusement, much to my relief. "Indeed you have, Miss Steele," he murmurs in a similarly suggestive tone that sets everything below my waist on fire. "And I have the feeling you'll be even more so with time once you relax."

I can only gape at him for long moments. "I'm sorry? Relax?" I don't know whether to be offended or not. This man barely knows me, has only spoken to me a handful of times; now he's the authority on when I need to relax?

He chuckles. "I don't mean anything by it, Anastasia. Most people see the need to try to impress me at all times. I don't think you're one of them, but I do think you're still too nervous to show us what you can do."

"Is that so, Mr. Grey?" I ask.

"It is," he confirms unblinkingly. "You're a rare breed, Miss Steele, and I pride myself on knowing talent when I see it. You don't fully believe you belong in this business, but if you give yourself time to get over those insecurities and that shyness, I assure that you will be successful. And I very much look forward to the day you finally realize your potential."

What does a person say to that? Nobody has ever had such confidence in me and it's amazing that this man seems to believe in me. He's probably dealt with millions of people in his career and I don't imagine he says those things to many, if any of them. This is quite possibly the highest compliment anyone has ever paid me. I struggle to think of a response as I stare at the cup of fruit beside my plate, counting the little specks on the strawberries in the hopes of restarting my brain.

Before I can do anything, however, the moment is broken when Ros and Brandon join the table, the latter of whom takes the seat beside me and I don't miss the tightness in Christian's jaw. Nevertheless, it's only moments before Christian switches to business-mode and I watch and listen in fascination as he seems to transform into another person entirely before my eyes. I realize suddenly that the man I'm seeing right now and the one I've spoken to privately are two very different people, and I imagine the only other person at this table who might have seen that other side of him is Ros.

Within the hour, the four of us are loading into a car and are driven to our meeting. The tension in the car is palpable as the other three check emails on their phones, occasionally exchanging information. When we arrive, Ros and I hang back a little from Christian and Brandon—sexist though it may be, some cultures will always respect men more than women. And since we're trying to shatter Chinese stereotypes of Americans, we have to conform to their expectations.

Once the pleasantries are exchanged, we spend hours seated around a conference table while the senior management I'm accompanying on this trip begin discussing business. To my surprise, they exchange the Chinese language for English rather quickly; it's a relief to know I'll be able to follow the conversations. It's only a matter of time before they're eating out of Christian's hand and are even warming up to Ros and me. Hours go by as negotiations begin and by the end of the afternoon, it's clear the shipyard will go to GEH even if the words have yet to be spoken. We'll reconvene tomorrow morning when contracts will be drawn up and barring unforeseen circumstances, it will all be finalized.

Christian and Ros are in high spirits on the ride back to the hotel. There is still work to be done, but they seem able to do things like this with hands tied behind their backs. Even without the contracts, Christian insists we celebrate with room service in his suite. Brandon and Ros exchange a shocked glance; this seems to be behavior out of the norm. After seeing how private a person Christian is, I imagine him inviting people into his personal space is rare. This theory is confirmed by Ros while Christian makes a call to room service.

"I've known him for close to a decade and a half, and he's never invited an entire team to celebrate in his room before," she says conspiratorially. "And he normally avoids prolonged exposure to Brandon. The man is a genius, but he's also kind of an asshole."

I smother a laugh as we watch Brandon set up his laptop at a table to begin the contract preparations. Christian finishes his call and joins us once he's selected a bottle of wine and four glasses. Abandoning his computer momentarily, Brandon joins us as well and we each hold our glasses up at Christian's insistence.

"To a job well done," Christian says, looking between the three of us. I wonder if it's my imagination that makes it seem as though he holds my gaze a little longer than the others'. "I have to admit this went much quicker and far more smoothly than I believed it would, so thank you all."

Our glasses clink together and we sip our wine. I catch Christian's eye again as I drink and find I wasn't imagining anything; he's watching me thoughtfully as though he's trying to figure me out. I'm the first to look away. Room service arrives quickly and we're all treated to an array of high-quality, authentic Chinese food that you would never find in Seattle. I find myself having a genuinely good time sampling a bit of everything and getting to know Ros and Brandon a bit better. Though he's kind of a douchebag, Brandon is smart and surprisingly funny. Through it all, Christian sits back in his chair and just watches us, occasionally joining in on the conversation, but not opening up like the rest of us just like last night. I've only known him a week and I already know better than to expect anything different. No one directs personal questions towards him and I wonder vaguely whether, with all the talk of significant others around the table, he has anyone, a girlfriend, perhaps. Maybe it's the wine, but I'm more bothered by the fact that he has somebody in his life than I should be.

It's around one in the morning when Ros declares that it's getting quite late—I assume she's making that judgment by the look on Christian's face stating he's had enough socializing for one night. Gathering our things, Christian shows us out. In the hallway, I look around, trying to remember which room is mine, but Brandon stops me as Ros heads into her own room.

"I don't know about you," he says huskily, his fingers brushing my elbow, "but I'm not tired yet. What would you say to going down for a few more drinks at the bar?"

I open my mouth to tell him as politely as possible to fuck off, but someone clears their throat behind me. Brandon looks up startled, then pales suddenly as his eyes widen and I know who I'm going to find before I turn around. Christian has his eyes narrowed on Brandon.

"Mr. Riley, Miss Steele," he says evenly. "You should both get some rest while you can; we have an early flight in the morning." He starts to turn back into his room, spinning on his heel to face us again. "Mr. Riley, I've been meaning to congratulate you on your girlfriend's pregnancy. You must be very excited."

I fight to stifle a laugh, but through my slightly drunken state, I can't help the snort that escapes from behind my hand covered mouth. Christian glances briefly at me and in that brief moment, I get the impression he is much more amused by the situation than irritated by it. I turn my eyes to Brandon who looks horrified and embarrassed. He shoots me a nervous smile and mutters something incomprehensible.

When he doesn't immediately flee for the safety of his room, presumably because Christian hasn't yet dismissed him, Christian raises an eyebrow almost imperceptibly. "Miss Steele, I was hoping you and I could chat for a moment about today," he says, business-like.

"Oh," I say in genuine surprise. I had assumed he was scolding us for fraternization or at the very least, helping me fight off unwanted attention from Brandon. "Of course, sir."

Christian nods, pushing his door open farther and gesturing for me to enter even as he still holds Brandon's gaze. I glance at him over my shoulder as the door to Christian's room shuts and Brandon is gaping at us. "Idiot," Christian mutters, once the door is shut. "He's a valuable asset to my company and I'd do just about anything to assure he doesn't go to work for the competition, but one of these days, he is going to bring the mother of all sexual harassment suits on himself."

I shrug. "He doesn't bother me," I say dismissively but honestly. "You won't have to worry about a sexual harassment suit from me."

Christian cocks his head to the side slightly, studying me. "Is that so?" he says quietly. I'm having trouble deciphering his tone of voice, but I think there may be hints of amusement and suggestiveness in there somewhere. Or maybe it's the wine. "Well, that's good to know." He's back to sounding matter-of-fact. "However, if in the future he does present a problem to you, please don't hesitate to come to me. GEH has a strict zero-tolerance policy towards harassment."

"I'll keep that in mind," I say, beginning to wonder why I'm here. I glance around the room. In the few minutes between leaving the room with Ros and Brandon, Christian has already cleaned up most of the mess left behind from dinner and drinks. "So you wanted to talk about today?"

Cracking a smile, he pushes off the door. "Actually, I only said that to get rid of Riley," he admits, his smile turning crooked. "Though since you're here, I would once again like to express my gratitude for the effort you put into this meeting. Admittedly I hadn't expected much as this is still your first week, but as I told you this morning, you have quite a lot of potential and today only served to prove that. So thank you, Miss Steele."

I open and close my mouth a few times while I try to think of something with which to respond. "I'm not sure I actually did anything today," I mutter shyly.

"You may not think so, but you did," Christian says briskly. He glances at his watch, sighs, and turns to glance through the peephole of his door. "Well, as I told Mr. Riley, we have an early flight in the morning, so we should all get some rest."

Nodding, I step towards the door as he opens it. "Thank you for including me in all of this, Mr. Grey," I say quietly.

"My pleasure, Miss Steele," he responds softly, his fingers brushing my elbow in the same spot Riley did a few minutes ago, though that didn't feel nearly as good as this does. "Sleep well."

I swallow hard as I walk past him, giving him a tight smile. Once again, I blame the wine as I inhale deeply and get a whiff of Christian. He smells of wine and body wash or cologne, and something I think might be uniquely him. To keep myself from doing anything that might embarrass me, like leaning in and pressing my nose to his chest to smell more deeply, I give him a tight smile when he opens the door again for me and leave the room without a backwards glance. Well, I don't glance back until I'm at my own door, but when I do, I find Christian still watching me.


	5. Chapter 5

The flight back to Seattle is much different than the one to Taiwan. It's quiet, for one. Everybody is spread out on the plane reading, working, or sleeping. Occasionally I look up from my book and look across the plane when I hear Christian speaking in a low voice to the flight attendant or Ros or Taylor. As though he senses my gaze, his eyes dart back to me and I immediately look away, my face burning as I return to my reading. He's barely said a word to me since I left his room last night, but I chalk it up to being tired after a late night. If that's not the reason, it really shouldn't matter; he's my boss's boss and the only relationship between us should be a professional one. This morning at breakfast, I convinced myself that his interest in me is nothing more than being a mentor—he's already said a handful of times that he sees potential in me; he's simply trying to help me realize that potential.

Still, it's going to be a struggle to keep my thoughts about him innocent and professional just as I'm sure most women around the world do. But hey, even if I can't stave off the daydreams starring him, at some point he'll decide I'm no different than any other woman he comes across and he will treat me the way he does them. Now if I can convince myself that's what I want, everything will be that much less complicated.

We arrive back in Seattle around dinnertime and there are four separate cars waiting on the tarmac, once to take each of us to our respective homes, I assume. Brandon mutters something to the rest of us before heading to his car. Ros and Christian are talking quietly near the steps leading up to the jet. I'm digging through my purse, making a show of looking for my keys or something and trying to pretend I'm not waiting in the hopes of talking to Christian again. Ros's phone rings, interrupting their conversation, and Christian glances at me again as I'm approaching the car Taylor directed me towards and he gives me a faint smile before I slip into the back and the door closes.

* * *

The moment I walk into the apartment I share with Kate, I'm tackled by a shrieking mass of strawberry blonde hair. My exhaustion is forgotten as I enthusiastically hug my best friend as though I haven't seen her in months rather than two weeks. She drags me over to the couch where I locate takeout boxes. To my relief, it's pizza instead of Chinese and beer instead of wine. I think I had enough of the other two to last me a month, however good it was. That's what I tell myself, not that those things will undoubtedly remind me of Christian for the foreseeable future.

While we eat, Kate gives me every last detail of her family vacation. I listen faintly, feeling jet lag beginning to set in. I'm exhausted, but I don't think I could sleep even if I tried. Once Kate talks herself out, I notice she's looking at me expectantly and for a second, I think she might somehow know about my thoughts on Christian and the conversations we've had during this trip. It takes a moment to remember she's not actually a mind reader despite her almost supernatural abilities of observation.

"What?" I ask, curling up on the couch to look at her.

"You know what," she says sternly, raising an eyebrow. I manage to bite back my grin as I imagine that exact look on Christian Grey's face. "Benjamin."

My exhaustion increases tenfold at the sound of his name. I'd nearly forgotten all about seeing him outside GEH two days ago. I shrug. "I told you nothing happened," I inform Kate. "I spotted him across the street and went inside the building. By the time I looked back, he was gone."

Kate nods slowly, almost in relief as though she half-expected me to have not told her that I'd been accosted or threatened instead of simply watched. "Well, I talked to my dad. He can help you get the restraining order updated. He also said to tell you that if you see the bastard, don't approach him or make contact him in anyway; just make a note of everything—where he is, what he's wearing, what he's doing. If you feel threatened, get somewhere safe and call the police immediately."

I nod at her words; they're the same ones Mr. Kavanagh and everyone else have been telling me for the last year and a half. "Tell your dad thanks for me," I say through a huge yawn. "I think I'm turning in for the night. Jet lag is a bitch."

Kate nods sympathetically. "Tomorrow you can tell me about Taiwan and what it's like working for Christian Grey," she says sternly. "From everything I've heard about him, you've got your work cut out for you."

"I don't actually work for him," I mutter, gathering our empty beer bottles and taking them to the kitchen. "I work for his number two."

"Yeah, well, interns don't typically last more than a month or two when they work with Grey on a regular basis; the ones that do tend to be badasses in their own right. Apparently he's a total hard ass." She smiles mischievously. "Then again, it might be worth it to _stare_ at his ass."

I huff a laugh, smiling reluctantly. "That seems to be the general consensus of every woman he comes into contact with," I say wryly.

"And are you taking the time to enjoy the view?" she asks, smirking.

I roll my eyes, hoping to hide my blush, not that it will do any good with Kate. I decide honesty is the only way she's going to let me go to bed tonight. "I've definitely seen worse," I admit.

She laughs as I walk past her towards my bedroom. Despite the unusually early hour—I rarely go to bed before eleven most nights—I fall asleep quickly. Unfortunately, it's only a few hours before I'm awake again. My entire body is sore as though I've run a cross-country marathon and my head is pounding. Slipping out of bed, I make my way to the kitchen for aspirin and a glass of water. The apartment is dark and quiet just as it should be at three in the morning and though I've lived here for weeks now and have begun getting used to the creaking floors or settling pipes that one only hears in the dead of night, I feel uneasy for some reason. I think back to just before I woke and realize the uneasiness was brought on by something I dreamed. Whatever it was, I can't recall it, but I'm suddenly on edge.

I'm being ridiculous and I know it, but I'm also being pulled towards the living room window that overlooks the Pike Place market. There are a few cars driving through the rainy streets this early. My eyes scan the sidewalks and every shadowed, darkened doorway for some unknown threat. Perhaps it's my tired eyes or a remnant of whatever was in my dream, but as I finish my water, I catch movement in the alley directly across from the window. I shake my head and blink several times to adjust my focus, but I don't see anything else out of the ordinary.

Deciding I'm over tired and slightly paranoid, I return to bed in the hopes of going back to sleep even though I know it's futile at this point. Instead I lie in bed until light begins to shine through my bedroom curtains, giving up when my stomach growls. I start on breakfast knowing Kate will be up soon and probably cranky. Today she has to drive to Tacoma for work. Her car has been in the shop for days for a tune-up, so she's taking my car, dropping me off at work, and will hopefully be back in Seattle in time to pick me up. If not, I'll probably end up walking home or if the rain keeps up, catching the bus.

I wonder vaguely as I wait for the water for my tea to heat up what my second week at GEH will bring since the first was so surprisingly eventful. I still question whether I will fit in there for the long run, but for now, I'm determined to make the best of it and learn everything I can. Even if I find out I'm not cut out for this line of work, having the Grey name on one's résumé will open numerous doors in the world. I could go anywhere and do anything if I can make it through this internship.

"Morning," Kate grunts as she enters the kitchen and makes a beeline to the coffeemaker.

"Morning," I reply, biting my lip against a smirk. I begin making plates for us with eggs, pancakes, and bacon. "Hungry?"

"Uh-huh," she says through a yawn, taking the plate I hand her.

We eat mostly in silence until Kate finishes off her second cup of coffee. "Busy day?" she asks.

I shrug. "No idea," I say honestly. "But then I didn't know I was going to Taiwan until I got to work on Friday, so..."

She huffs a laugh. "Speaking of which..."

I tell her all about the trip—most of it, anyway; I'm still not quite ready to have her analyze Christian's behavior towards me—and she rolls her eyes when I tell her about Brandon, his flirting, and his apparently pregnant girlfriend.

"Sounds like you've made an impression already," Kate says, her eyes narrowing on me calculatingly. "Especially your first day..."

I cringe, knowing she's referring to the fender bender where I first met Christian. "Yeah, well, I'm hoping that will be nothing more than a memory soon."

"Nice of Grey to take care of your car for you," she asks.

"It was," I say, stifling my sigh as I take our plates to the sink. "Especially considering the accident was my fault."

I wait for her to push the subject further, but to my surprise, she doesn't. Instead we part to get ready for work.

"Damn, that's a nice building," Kate says as she pulls up in front of Grey House. She leans over me to look up it.

"It's nicer inside," I tell her absentmindedly, grabbing my things. "So I'll see you this evening?"

She nods. "I'll let you know if I get caught up in traffic or something," she says.

"Drive safe," I instruct her as I get out.

She waves when I shut the door and I wait for her to pull away before heading inside. Unlike my first day here, I'm confident as I walk through the lobby and smile at the security guards when I pass through the metal detectors. I join a group of people as we pile into the elevators and most of them look at me oddly when I hit the button for the twentieth floor. I've already figured out most GEH employees might see the twentieth floor once or twice in all their time with the company, and the ones who go there regularly are typically upper management or one of the beautiful people—definitely no one like me.

I ignore the attention and pretend to check my phone for messages like everyone else around here does. After a few minutes of people departing the elevator, I'm alone as I reach my floor and step out, shooting Andrea a smile. She's on the phone as I pass, but gives me a tight smile in return and a polite wave. I can't help it when my eyes drift past her to Christian's office and I get a slight flutter in my belly when I see him pacing the room and seemingly talking to himself, though he's probably talking to someone on speakerphone. Whoever it is, I feel sorry for them; it's way too early in the day to piss off Christian Grey. He stops pacing suddenly and looks through the window separating his office from the reception area directly outside and finds me. His brow furrows for a moment and I think he gives me a half-smile as I continue my way down the hall to Ros's office.

"Thank God you're here," the woman herself says when I arrive at her open door. "I've got some contracts I need you to sort through. You might want to get some coffee; it's going to be a long day."

I grimace at her words and take a stack of paperwork from her before heading to my desk in the small office next door.

Ros was telling the truth when she said it would be a long day. By lunchtime, my eyes are blurring and crossed and I almost long for jetlag; at least then I didn't have fingers covered in paper cuts.

"Hey, we're getting lunch catered in," Ros says, knocking briefly on my door. "Take a break and join us; we're in Mr. Grey's office."

"Oh, sure," I respond, surprised. I'd just planned on going down to the cafeteria or walking over to the bistro across from the building. "I'll be there in a second."

Ros smiles briefly and disappears. A few minutes later, I finish up on the document I'd been working on and head to the bathroom. I'm glad I did when I catch a glance of myself in the mirror. I flinch at the way my hair is all over the place and quickly put it back into a ponytail then touch up my makeup a bit. Making my way to Christian's office, I tell myself that the reason for concern over how I look is because I'm having lunch with my bosses, not because I want to look good for Christian himself.

Knocking on the door, I still don't believe it. Christian's voice calls for me to enter and I do so hesitantly, nervous all of a sudden though I'm not entirely sure why. Ros and Christian are seated in front of the coffee table—her in a chair; him on the couch. On the table is an array of foods from what I think is an Italian restaurant I've been meaning to try.

"Have a seat, Miss Steele," Christian instructs me. I notice the only open spot with food in front of it is right beside him and for a second I let myself think it was an intentional arrangement on his part. "Ros wasn't sure what you would like, so we went with the lasagna. If you prefer something else, you can have mine..." I glance over and find a plate of chicken parmesan, then glance at Ros who's frowning at Christian as though she's never seen him behave like this before.

"Lasagna is perfect," I say, sitting on the edge of the couch and uncovering my dome-lidded plate. "Thank you."

Christian nods, reaching over to fill an empty glass beside my plate with water. "Ros says she's keeping you busy today," he comments.

I nod. "She is," I say, smiling at Ros's smirk.

"Getting the hang of things, I hope," Christian goes on.

"She's doing great," Ros tells him almost proudly. "Assuming she survives the week, I think I'll finally have an assistant that's worth a damn." She sends me a wink.

Christian chuckles. "High praise indeed coming from her," he says to me. "The last one you had—Louis, was it?—he lasted, what six days?"

"Five and a half," Ros corrects him as she eats her pasta. "Apparently I was too abrasive for him, whatever the hell that means." They both chuckle and I get the impression Ros's inability to keep an assistant for long is an inside joke between them. I'd have thought Christian to be the one who has trouble keeping assistants, but Andrea seems to have lasted quite a while.

Lunch is surprisingly relaxing and I'm thrown back to being in Taiwan following the successful business meeting when everyone was in high spirits and talking in the restaurant like we were all old friends. Christian and Ros tease each other like siblings and I vaguely wonder how long they've known each other. They ask my impression so far of GEH and I tell them honestly that I like it.

"So you think you'll be staying on for a while?" Christian asks quietly.

I assume he's just asking from a business perspective, wondering if he'll have to start looking for another intern, but something in his eyes suggests he's asking for more personal reasons even if I don't know what those would be or why he'd have those thoughts about me.

"I think so," I say, suddenly feeling shy.

Christian gives me a mysterious little smile and I can't tell if he's relieved or disappointed. Ros is looking between us oddly, her eyes narrowing on Christian as we finish up. If he notices, he doesn't let on. I'm suddenly eager to get back to work, so I thank Christian and Ros for inviting me to lunch and make my escape as quickly as I can without it seeming like that's what I'm doing. As I go, I think I can feel Christian's eyes on me, but I manage to avoid glancing behind me. I'm back in my little office and buried in paperwork for close to half an hour before Ros pops in to check on my progress.

For the most part, I'm not having any trouble, but a few of the business terms are over my head, so she patiently explains them to me. I thank her and she starts to excuse herself, but I feel her narrowed gaze on me. "Is something wrong?" I ask.

She forces a smile. "No, of course not," she says. "If you have any more questions, you know where to find me."

She leaves and I'm uneasy, wondering what it is she isn't saying. I don't know what brought on her sudden change of mood, but her tone almost suggested she feels sorry for me about something and it didn't pop up until lunch in Christian's office. Cringing, I wonder if she thinks I'm as interested in him as the majority of other women at GEH. Well, she isn't wrong, but I'm not stupid enough to think anything could possibly happen between the two of us. For one, he's the CEO of the company and I'm an intern; it would be nothing short of scandal for us to see each other outside work. Besides, what would he possibly see in me? I'm plain and boring compared to the other women in this building and he could surely have his pick of the most beautiful women in the world.

No, my best bet is to do the job Ros asks me to do and do it to the best of my ability, and if I do decide to start dating, I'll find someone more in my league. Preferably someone who isn't a psychotic stalker.

* * *

By the end of the workday, I'm not as far along as I want to be on my paperwork, so when Ros pops her head through the door to remind me that it's time to go home, I tell her I'm going to hang around a little longer, at least until I get farther into my deadline comfort zone. She instructs me not to stay too late and that she won't be in tomorrow until lunchtime as she has a personal issue to deal with. I say bye and she's off, leaving me to return to my work.

The next time I glance at the clock, I'm shocked that it's nearly eight o'clock. I'd have expected to hear from Kate by now, and find a few messages on my phone telling me she's running a bit behind and will probably grab a room for the night rather than try to drive home. She apologizes profusely for leaving me carless. I check my wallet to see if I have enough cash to grab a cab and order a pizza; thankfully I do, so I think Kate is mostly forgiven.

I get all my things together and call for a cab—it'll be here in twenty minutes on the outside. That works; I can grab a pizza from the place across the street while I wait. Out in the hallway, it's obvious everyone left hours ago. Most of the overhead lights are off, leaving only dim ones on to guide my way. I know the building has twenty-four hour security so I won't be locked in and thankfully the elevator is still running so I don't have to go down twenty flights of stairs.

As the elevator doors slide open, I hear a door behind me open as well.

"Miss Steele?"

I spin around to find Christian exiting his office. His suit jacket is hanging over his arm, his tie is loose and the first couple buttons of his shirt are open, and his messenger bag is hanging off his shoulder. "Mr. Grey," I greet as he closes his door and locks it behind him. "I didn't realize anyone else was here."

He gives me a scrutinizing look. "Nor did I," he says quietly. "Ros left hours ago; why are you still here?" He sounds almost disapproving.

"I was a little behind in my work and I wanted to catch up a bit before I went home," I explain, flushing for some reason as he reaches my side, gesturing for me to enter the elevator first.

As the doors slide closed, tension fills the air, manifesting in an electrical charge that surrounds Christian and me, forcing me to glance up at him. He's looking back at me, his grey eyes stormy and his jaw tense as he stuffs his hands in his pocket. I think I know what that expression means and I fight not to back away from in order to get some distance between us.

Christian clears his throat. "Well, I can certainly appreciate working late," he says briskly, frowning as he looks up at the digital display as we pass each floor. "It isn't the first time I've stayed late either."

I smile at that. "I'm sure it wouldn't be easy becoming as successful as you are if you didn't actually work at it," I concede teasingly.

He chuckles, though it sounds strangely detached, almost sad. "No, it's not," he replies. "But it is what it is and I'd be lying if I said I didn't enjoy it."

Vaguely, I wonder what else he enjoys. He's intense so much of the time, so driven; there must be something he likes doing that helps him unwind.

"Where are you parked?" he asks me. "It's late; you shouldn't be wandering on your own."

I almost want to roll my eyes at him, but I refrain. "I don't have my car today," I tell him as we reach the lobby. Outside the building, I see a black Audi SUV and Taylor waiting patiently beside it. "My roommate's car is in the shop and she needed to be in Tacoma today, so she gave me a ride in."

He frowns, glancing around presumably for my car. "I could wait with you..." he says.

"No, it's okay," I assure him. "I called for a cab; she won't be back until tomorrow, so..."

His frown deepens. "A cab?" he repeats as though it's a dirty word. "Don't worry about it; I can give you a ride home."

"You really don't have to do that," I try to insist. "I'm sure it's out of your way."

"Nonsense," he scoffs. "Where do you live?"

Taylor seems to understand Christian's offer and looks at me expectantly which takes away my argument. "Um, near Pike Place Market," I murmur.

"Not out of the way at all," Christian says dismissively. "I'm near there as well. Escala."

He says it like it means something to me, but I've never heard of it, so I just smile. "If you're sure," I acquiesce. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, Miss Steele," Christian says, pleased as he guides me into the back seat of the car. He talks quietly to Taylor for a second. The other man nods and makes his way around to the driver's seat. "Have you eaten since lunch?"

"No," I answer as Taylor pulls into traffic. "I was going to order a pizza when I got home."

Frowning disapprovingly, I think, Christian narrows his eyes on me. "I was going to have dinner out this evening. You're welcome to join me if you like."

The offer shocks me and I can only stare at him dumbly for a few moments as I process what he's just said. "Really, you don't have to," I say quickly. "I appreciate the offer, Mr. Grey, and the ride, but it's fine. I'm sure you've got other things to deal with."

He looks annoyed momentarily. "I'm not asking just to be nice," he says quietly, taking a deep breath and slowly letting it out again. "I try to get to know the people I work closely with on a daily basis and you happen to be one of those people. Assuming you were telling the truth at lunch about staying on at GEH, I'd like to know who I hired." His tone turns more teasing towards the end.

I relax a little. I still think it would be better if we kept things professional, but if he means what he says, that's exactly what this is. "Okay, then," I say quietly, smiling shyly. "Dinner would be nice."

A smile breaks out across his lips at my acceptance, one that makes me feel a little tingly. "Excellent," he says with finality. "Taylor, the Mile High Club, please."

My eyes widen briefly at his words, making me think of what I've heard about couples on airplanes. Kate claims to be a member, though she never would tell me anything more than that. Not that I've asked; the last thing I want is to hear her get into even further detail about her sex life than she usually does.

A few minutes later, we're pulling up outside Columbia Tower and Christian is sliding out of the backseat, holding out a hand to help me out. I give him a shy smile that he returns before releasing my hand and leading me into the building. I get why the restaurant is called the Mile High Club; it feels like that's how high in the air we are. I'm not necessarily afraid of heights, but for the most part, I prefer to keep my feet on the ground. As we're led to a table by an over eager hostess who is eyeing Christian like her next meal, I inwardly cringe. This place seems hideously expensive; I doubt the money I have in my purse for cab fare and pizza delivery tonight would cover more than a salad and glass of water.

Christian pulls out a chair for me and I smile tightly at him while he sits across from me. "What's wrong?" he asks, cocking his head to the side.

"Nothing," I say, flushing again. I wonder vaguely how much longer I will turn red in his presence. "This is all a little fancier than where I usually eat, is all."

He chuckles. "Don't let it intimidate you," he says conspiringly. "I only bought the place because they cook one hell of a steak."

My eyes widen again. "You own this place? That's a bit of reach from telecommunications."

He grins widely. "Well, I'm very diverse," he says, his tone low and suggestive. I can't help squirming in my seat. I see his eyebrow rise very slightly; he noticed. "I've also got my fingers in other pies as well. Clubs, beauty salons..."

I choke on the water sitting in front of me. "Sorry, beauty salons?" I ask, coughing. "That doesn't seem like something you'd be interested in."

He shrugs. "I'm a silent partner. The day-to-day running of the business is headed by somebody else. I only get involved when there is a business issue or I need to check-in on my investment."

His explanation makes enough sense, though I still can't see him involved in a beauty salon chain.

"What about you. Miss Steele?" he asks before I can think of a response. "You seem to know quite a bit about my business dealings; what things interest you?"

I get the impression he's changing the subject intentionally. "Oh, um, I'm not sure really. I majored in Literature in school and I've always enjoyed reading. Apart from that, there isn't much to know about me."

Raising an eyebrow, Christian leans back in his chair, rubbing a finger across his lips."Oh, I'm sure that's not true," he argues. "Literature? What specifically?"

"The classics, mostly. British classics to be specific," I say, relaxing. This is something I'm comfortable talking about. "I'd intended to get into the publishing market, but apparently it's a little more difficult to get accepted than job recruiters want people to think."

Christian frowns again. Before he can respond, the waiter has arrived at our table to take our orders. Quickly, I scan the menu, wincing when I don't see anything really in my price range. When it's my turn to order, I ask for a salad. Christian stops the waiter before he can leave again. "You should have more than that," he chides me. "Do you like steak?"

Under pressure, I nod quickly, aware of the eyes of both Christian and the waiter on me. The waiter asks how I like my steak cooked and I get a salad and potato on the side. Once we're alone again, Christian eyes me speculatively and I think he's worked out my problem. "We can write this off as a business expense, you know," he says quietly, grinning crookedly. "This is a business dinner, after all, isn't it?"

I nod, feeling self-conscious. "Thanks," I say, feeling uncomfortable.

Christian is quiet for a minute or two. "So publishing, huh? You're not really all that into the business world, are you?" he asks quietly. The waiter passes our table to bring us each a glass of red wine. Christian taste tests it and nods his approval, and the waiter pours the liquid from the bottle into the glasses.

"It wasn't my first choice," I admit, sipping the wine and hoping it will give me a bit more courage. "But I meant what I said earlier; I am enjoying GEH more than I thought I would."

"Good," he says, smiling. "I assume you put in applications for publishing internships; did none of them accept you?" He almost sounds offended on my behalf.

"I put in applications to all the publishing houses in Seattle, but I'm still waiting to hear from two of them," I say quietly. "The others were large and apparently want people with more experience."

He's frowning again. "So why apply for GEH?" he asks curiously. "If your interests lie in publishing, why not pursue that?"

"I applied at GEH because one of my college professors strongly encouraged me to do so," I answer, smiling at Dr. Parker's continued insistences. "He heard the company was looking for qualified candidates for paid internships and said I was the first person he thought of. I didn't actually think I'd be accepted and I forgot about applying until I got the phone call, but I'm glad I applied."

The frown turns into a slight smile. "I'm glad you applied, too," he says softly. "You've been quite the addition to our team, Anastasia. To be honest, I'm surprised."

"I'm surprised, too." He raises an eyebrow. "The first time in walked into the building, I thought I'd never fit in—everyone seems so poised and sophisticated"— _and more beautiful than I'll ever be—"_ and I wasn't really sure how long I'd really last."

"Admittedly I don't exactly scrape the bottom of the barrel when I hire my staff," he says quietly. I think he's amused rather than annoyed about my statement. "But if you ask me, you fit in better than a lot of people who have been in my employ for years." He hesitates for a moment, sipping his wine. "Too many people think kissing my ass is the way to get anywhere in my company and it gets old quickly. I don't see you as one of those people. As for poise and sophistication, you've got much more of both than you seem to think. I only hope that if one of those publishing companies does get back to you with an acceptance, you'll think twice about leaving us."

My entire body warms at his words. "At least twice," I say teasingly.

He smiles again just as our dinners are brought to the table. Now that the food is in front of me, I'm glad Christian insisted I have something more substantial than a salad. I doubt it would raise his impression of me if I spent the whole meal staring at his steak and drooling over it.

As we eat, he begins asking me questions that I'm sure have nothing to do with GEH. He wants to know about my hobbies apart from reading, about my parents and what they do for a living, and about Kate. If I didn't know any better, I'd say he's interested in me and it has nothing to do with his company. Thankfully, I do know better; even if he does, it's still a massively bad idea. Surely he realizes that being the smart man he obviously is. In turn, I ask about his family, something he doesn't seem to really appreciate, but answers to avoid seeming rude. I learn his mother is a pediatrician, his father is a lawyer, and he's got a brother in construction, and a sister who hasn't decided what she wants to do with her life.

"Must be nice, growing up with siblings," I muse, drinking more of the wine he keeps pouring into my glass. "I was an only child; it's a pretty lonely existence."

His brief irritation over my interrogation fades. "I suppose," he allows. "Elliot is older than me, though there are times when I wonder if that's really true; he can act like a frat boy sometimes. And Mia..." His expression softens. "Well, I've always had a soft spot for her, but she can be a bit..." He searches for the right word. "Exuberant might be a good word for her."

I smile at his explanation. "Kate, my roommate, can be the same sometimes."

It turns out Christian has done business with Kate's father a few times and seems to have a lot of respect for Mr. Kavanagh. By the end of dinner, it almost seems like we've known each other for a long time rather than only a few weeks with limited interaction. I'm sure it's an illusion and if I'm as smart as Christian seems to think I am, I won't build it up in my mind into something that isn't there. When I try to insist on paying my share of dinner, Christian glares at me hard enough that I put my wallet away; I seem to have forgotten how intimidating he can be this evening. He guides me out of the restaurant with a hand on the small of my back and though I can barely feel the light pressure, my body warms again and I realize trying to pretend he doesn't affect me is going to be impossible.

After giving Taylor my address, he starts the car and everyone falls silent. The few times I've glanced at Christian, he's staring out the window with a frown, occasionally running his fingers over his lips and I wonder what it would be like if those fingers touched my lips. I shake my head and look out at the dark Seattle night. I don't ever remember actually being attracted to a man, not like I am to Christian, and it's slightly unnerving. Is that because he's my boss and it would be inappropriate or because I'm starting to get the impression that he might also be attracted to me?

Taylor pulls up to the curb in front of my building and I still don't have an answer. Christian shakes himself from his own thoughts and turns to me, smiling. "Thank you for joining me for dinner," he says quietly as Taylor exits the car and comes around to open my door.

"Thank you for inviting me," I murmur shyly, biting my lip. His eyes immediately dart down and darken. "And thank you for the ride home."

"It was my pleasure," he says darkly, and I think we may be having completely separate conversations. Taylor opens the door and I exit almost gratefully; the thickening tension was making it difficult to breathe. "Have a good evening, Anastasia."

I grab my purse, sending Christian one last smile. Before Taylor can close the door, I boldly say, "You, too, Christian." I see the surprise register on his face at my use of his first name, but I think he might be smiling. "Good night, Taylor. Thank you."

Taylor is definitely smiling. "My pleasure, Miss Steele," he murmurs. "Enjoy your evening."

The apartment is dark and quiet when I enter, and while that normally doesn't bother me, tonight it does for some reason and I can't put a finger on why. Instead of lingering on it, I decide to take a bath and try to relax from my odd day at work—from lunch to Ros's strange behavior afterwards to Christian asking me to dinner and offering me a ride home. I almost wish Kate was home so I could get her view on all of this. Then again, I know how much shit she will give me about this and I'm not certain I'm ready for that.

My bedroom is cold and draftier than I remember it being this morning, and I discover I left a window open. Closing it, I frown, not able to actually recall opening it, though I do remember my disorienting dream last night; I suppose it's possible I did it when I woke up and almost felt like I was suffocating. As I gather clothes to change into after my bath, I make the decision to rearrange my dresser drawers at my earliest convenience or at least make an effort to fold my clothes more neatly after washing them. The bath is comforting and I sink into the warm bubbled water gratefully, relaxing immediately. Normally I'd pour a glass of wine and bring a book in with me to the bath, but tonight I just lay my head back and close my eyes.

A muffled crash has me sitting up straight in the back, water sloshing onto the floor. Covering my breasts, I stare through the open door leading into my bedroom and listen hard for any other sounds. After deciding I imagined it, I let the water out of the bath, rinse the bubbles off, and climb out, wrapping myself in a bathrobe. Once I'm changed into pajamas, I head back into the apartment and find my purse upturned on the floor. I must have left it too close to the edge on the counter and it fell, which explains the noise.

Rolling my eyes, I pick up the contents of my purse, stuffing it all back in and leave it on the coffee table before returning into my room to get dressed. I grab a book after drying my hair and climb into bed to fall asleep reading.

* * *

 **A/N:** Thank you as always for everyone who has read, reviewed, and/or private messaged. A few of you have asked whether I would be including Christian's POV in this story and I told you no, but I have apparently changed my mind and will be switching to his POV later in the story. Hope you all continue to enjoy!


	6. Chapter 6

When I arrive at GEH the next day, I'm not entirely certain what to expect since I know Ros won't be here until after lunchtime. I reach the twentieth floor and Andrea looks up when the elevator doors open.

"Morning, Ana," she says briskly, not letting me reply. "Mr. Grey wants to see you." She immediately picks up her phone and assumingly calls Christian to let him know I've arrived. I furtively glance at my watch to make sure I'm not late—I'm not—and wait expectantly for Andrea to hang up. She does a moment later. "You can go right in."

"Oh, okay," I say uncertainly. Have I done something wrong? Maybe he's pissed that I called him by his first name last night. From what I've picked up around the building, he frowns on anyone calling him Christian because he considers it disrespectful.

Shit. I'm about to be fired.

Swallowing nervously, I walk like a lamb to slaughter into Christian's office, amazed that my feet don't trip me up. Christian is sitting behind his desk tying something and only looks up when I reach the chairs in front of his desk.

"Good morning, Miss Steele," he says, business-like. I wonder if I'm imagining the way his eyes travel up and down my body with interest.

"Good morning, Mr. Grey," I murmur, knotting my fingers together.

He raises an eyebrow and I see the shadow of a smile on his face. "Oh, so it's Mr. Grey this morning," he says teasingly. I relax immediately; I don't think I'm here because of the way I addressed him last night. He gestures at a chair. "Please sit." I do so, dropping my purse down by my feet and he sits back in his own chair. "As I'm sure you already know, Miss Bailey won't be in the building this morning and I don't actually expect her back all day, so in order to keep you from losing your mind or making your eyes go permanently crossed, I thought we would find something else for you to work on today and give yourself a break from those contracts. We wouldn't want you to get too bored and go back to trying to get into the publishing world, would we?"

I'm not entirely sure how to respond, so I don't.

He smirks a little. "Anyway, we're finalizing the deal with the Taiwan shipping company and I need somebody to help with a bit of research. What I need to know is whether it's feasible to expand the shipyard and increase output without cutting labor to cover the costs. I want to avoid having to do away with jobs as far as is possible. Of course, I'm willing to increase budgets to get us there, but I don't want it to turn into a black hole where we're just flushing money without any return."

"Okay," I say, frowning slightly as I think through his proposed task. "And how would I do that?"

"I need you to head down to the R&D division and partner up with Breanne Ashe. She's the head of the department and she's low on staff at the moment. I'm going to be out of the building this afternoon for a few hours so I'll need a results report before lunch. Do you think you can handle that?"

A smart ass retort about my high GPA is on the tip of my tongue, but I bite it back. "Of course, Mr. Grey," I say quietly, simply relieved that I'm not getting fired. And that I won't be staring at blandly worded contracts all day. "I'll get right on it."

"Thank you, Miss Steele," he says softly. His stare is intense and I wait for him to go on, but he remains silent. After a minute or so, he clears his throat, his expression neutralizes, and he smiles politely at me. "Miss Ashe is expecting you."

I'm being dismissed. Quickly I grab my purse, shoot him a smile, and leave his office. Even as I board the elevator to take me down to R&D, I can feel his eyes on me.

...

The Research and Development division of GEH is not what I expected. I thought I would find another hallway like all the others in the building with people working diligently on whatever project they've been assigned; instead the elevator doors open to a large open floor plan with desks spread out sporadically. The shelves that line the walls have books and papers stuffed haphazardly into them, rock music playing over a PA, and a much looser dress code than what I'm used to. It's so different from the rest of the place that I wonder if I'm even still in the Grey House building.

"Hey, you must be Anastasia."

I turn around and find a woman a few years older than me wearing khaki cargo pants, a sweater, and sneakers. "Um, yes," I answer reaching out to shake her hand. "Please, call me Ana."

"You got it," she says, gesturing for me to walk to the far end of the room where I assume her desk is situated. "So Grey briefed you, I assume?" I nod. "Good. Welcome to GEH R&D. In case you hadn't noticed, we're don't exactly fit in with the rest of place, hence the reason we're stuffed down here in the basement. Grey himself doesn't make many appearances, but when he does I'm pretty sure he has a mini stroke every time; it's actually amusing to watch his eye twitch the second he gets off the elevator. Anyway, as you can see, I'm basically running a skeleton crew. Grey lets me run things here the way I want and despite appearances, I'm a bit of a hard ass. My expectations are occasionally higher than the big boss's, which is saying quite a bit, so people don't generally last long down here." She smirks, raising an eyebrow as she looks me up and down. "It's probably a good thing you're not down here permanently."

I raise an eyebrow right back, sensing some sort of challenge. "Or perhaps you don't know what you're missing having me assigned twenty-one floors up," I reply.

She narrows her eyes on me for a moment, but smiles. "Perhaps you're right, Ana. Okay, we are on a time crunch, so let's get to work."

Near lunchtime, I think we've got enough information to give Christian and it wasn't nearly as tedious as I had expected. Breanne is very likable and much more the kind of people I fit in with. She's got quite a bit to say about the Stepford wives of GEH which tends to be anyone blonde, stuck up, and who follows Christian around like a dog in heat. They're good at their jobs, of course, which is the only reason they're here at all, and though the unspoken rule is that nobody openly flirts with the boss, many have tried and they have all failed.

"He's a private sort of guy," Breanne tells me as we're wrapping up our work. "I've known him from the beginning of the company and I've learned more about you in the last few hours than I have about him over eight years. He can be intense and intimidating and I'll admit, he can definitely be an asshole sometimes, but for what he lacks in social niceties, he more than makes up for in other ways. Last year, one of the building security guard's son was diagnosed with leukemia and it wasn't looking good. Grey pays very generously and the benefits with GEH are amazing, but it still wasn't enough to pay for the kid's treatment. Well, Grey heard about it and not only got the kid one of the best oncologists in the state, but paid for the kid's treatment out of his own pocket. Last I heard, the kid is in remission after his parents were told he had six months."

"Wow," I say, impressed by Christian's kindness. How many CEOs would do that for anyone who works for them let alone a lowly security guard? If I wasn't attracted to him before, hearing this would seal it for me.

Breanne nods. "I have a hundred stories like that. I'm just trying to say that it takes a tough skin to work with him and I know you officially work for Ros, but Grey has a way of rubbing people the wrong way if they're too sensitive. But as long as you can keep in mind that under his asshole exterior he's actually a really good guy, it'll help you push through the bad days."

I'm still thinking about that conversation as I take the elevator back up to the twentieth floor. For all the time he spends scowling and snapping at people, I could see almost from the beginning that there was much more to him than that. Unlike most people at GEH, I've seen him smiling and laughing and even cracking jokes on occasion, and I've gotten the impression he goes to lengths to hide that usually.

Andrea once again greets me when I step off the elevator, instructing me to go right in to Christian's office as he's expecting me. Despite that, I knock softly before actually opening the door and find Christian already looking up expectantly, a small smile on his lips. "Welcome back, Miss Steele," he says quietly, again looking me up and down before holding my gaze. "What did you think of R&D?"

I smile in return, sitting down in the same chair I occupied this morning. "It was... different," I say diplomatically.

He chuckles. "That would be an understatement," he says wryly. "The only reason I put up with it is because Breanne is a fucking genius at her job and she would be impossible to replace... How'd the report come along?"

"Oh," I say, having almost forgotten why I'm here. I hand him the manila folder with the information he asked for and give him a summation of the results. He nods as he reads and listens to me, and I think he's a little impressed.

"Very nice," he murmurs, closing the folder and dropping it onto his desk and looking at me again. I wonder for a moment if he's referring to the report or to me. "Well, like I said this morning, I'll be out of the building this afternoon. I've spoken to Ros and she won't be back, either. It's your choice, but you can either stay and keep going through those contracts or take the afternoon off yourself. And I assure you, this is a rare offer," he adds, his eyes shining with amusement. "So if I were you, I'd take it."

Normally I'd probably decline, whether it's a rare offer or not, but I got a text earlier from Kate saying that her father has a block of a few hours this afternoon to accompany me to check the status of my restraining order against Benjamin Reese. I suppose I could go on my own, but Eamon Kavanagh's name goes a long way in Seattle and I'll get better results with his assistance. This isn't something that should be half-assed... "If it really is no trouble, I'd like to take the afternoon off," I say carefully, wondering if the offer was a test of some kind. "I have a few personal things to deal with."

"It's no trouble," he assures me, packing away a few of his things in preparation of leaving the office.

A buzz comes from his desk phone. "Mr. Grey, Mrs. Lincoln has arrived for your next meeting," says Andrea's disembodied voice.

Christian's mask slips for just a second as his eyes dart between the phone and me. "Thank you, Andrea. Give me a minute, please."

"I don't want to hold you up," I say quickly, standing from the chair.

He shakes his head. "You're not," he says quietly. "There is still something I wanted to speak with you about."

Okay, maybe this is about using his first name last night... "Sure," I say warily.

If I didn't know any better, I'd say he suddenly looks slightly nervous. "Right, well, I don't normally do this—in fact, I frown heavily on this sort of thing—but I was wondering if you might like to have dinner with me again sometime." Somehow I manage to keep my knees from buckling with surprise. Did he really just...? "I realize it's unconventional and probably not the best idea I've ever had, but I enjoyed your company very much last night and I'd like to see you again."

"Oh," I whisper dumbly. "Um..."

"It's your choice, of course," he says quickly. "If you say no, that's perfectly fine—it won't affect anything here at work and certainly not your job."

"Um..." I say again, my brain having trouble comprehending the fact that he's quite possibly asking me out on a date. He's watching me expectantly and hopefully. I can see what Breanne was talking about earlier regarding Christian being a good guy beneath the cold exterior he exudes. And I know that if I say no to this dinner date that will be the end of it; even if the day-to-day doesn't change, he'll probably never ask again, because it really is not the best idea in the world. His expression begins to fall and I can see him rebuilding his defensive walls. "I'd like that," I whisper shyly.

His eyebrows shoot up and his eyes widen in surprise. "Really?" he asks, giving me a thousand megawatt smile. I nod, biting my lip against my own smile. Again, his eyes dart down to my mouth and darken. "Shall we say Friday night, then?"

"Friday night is perfect," I say, unable to contain my smile.

Slowly, he walks around his desk to stand in front of me, reaching up tentatively to pull my lip from of my teeth. "Don't bite your lip, Miss Steele," he warns darkly. "It's far too tempting to bite it myself..."

I gasp at his words, flushing everywhere while he looks pleased with my reaction.

"Seven o'clock, Friday night," he whispers, tracing my bottom lip with his thumb. "I'll pick you up from your apartment." He lets his hand drop to his side. "Now, if you'll excuse me," he says, his voice back to normal, "I have another appointment."

Nodding while my head continues to spin, he guides me to the office door, reaching around me to open it. I give him a grateful smile; I'm not sure I could have figured out how to operate the door handle in my current state. His eyes sparkle back at me and I step out into the lobby in front of his office. Immediately my eyes locate a woman seated in a chair near the elevator. For some reason, my hackles rise at the sight of her. She's probably in her forties or at most early-fifties, though she doesn't quite look it. Her blonde hair is cut in a bob and she's dressed all in black. The only color on her is her dark red lipstick and matching fingernails, and the jewelry on her fingers and around her neck. She sees me and gives me a tight smile until Christian steps out behind me; her eyes widen in interest as they dart between us and her smile turns more genuine. Christian nods a greeting to her and murmurs something about her giving him a moment. He leads me to the elevator and presses the button to summon it.

"As I said, Miss Steele, thank you for your assistance today," he says briskly. I get the feeling he's putting on a show for the woman and anybody else who might be paying attention to us. "Let me know if you have any more questions regarding what we discussed, otherwise, I'll see you tomorrow."

His tone softens slightly as I step into the elevator. I ignore the curious gaze from the blonde woman, enjoying the way his eyes stay locked on me even as the doors close.


	7. Chapter 7

"Are you seriously telling me that you have a date with Christian Grey?" Kate asks for about the fifth time. 

After meeting her father at the courthouse and updating the restraining order, she and I decided to grab some lunch. I hadn't planned on telling her about Christian until I got my mind wrapped around it for a bit longer, but she noticed something was off about me and used her best interrogation techniques to inveigle the information from me.

For the fifth time, I roll my eyes. "Yes, it seems so," I say, sipping my diet coke. "Is it really so shocking that he would ask me out?" Of course, I know the answer is yes absolutely, especially since I know he could have his pick of anybody.

"it's not that," Kate says quickly. I don't quite believe her, but I keep quiet. "It's just that he's never been seen with a date, not in all the time his company has been successful. There are rumors he might be gay, actually. Apparently that's not the case." She frowns for a moment in thought. "Well, this means we need to go shopping. If you're going out with Christian Grey, you need to look the part."

I want to ask what she means by that—the uncharitable thought that he seems more interested in blondes since he surrounds himself with them enters my mind, but I shove it away. I'm not sure she'd hear me if I put in a protest, so I keep quiet and let her have her way.

The rest of the afternoon is spent with her dragging me from store to store in search of what she calls the perfect first date dress. By the time we get home, I'm exhausted, but at least we managed to find something I'm comfortable wearing and that Kate is pleased with. She's still going on and on about what preparations need to be done before I go out with Christian—everything from hair and makeup to getting me comfortable walking around in the high heels she insisted I get to go with the dress. They're higher than what I've worn before and I know the entire time I'm wearing them I'll worry about breaking an ankle.

The thing I'm most concerned about is what happens after the date. Christian assured me that if I declined the date nothing would change as far as work goes, but what if the date doesn't go well? How am I supposed to look at him every day? I'm equally worried about what happens if it goes well; will it change how he treats me at work? I don't want people to think I'm getting special treatment because we've gone out and enjoyed each other's company. I suppose it's something we'll have to discuss at some point, however nervous I am about it. Kate huffs dismissively when I bring up the subject with her; she insists Christian Grey hasn't gotten where he has without being professional at work. She thinks it might be hot for us to pretend to be nothing more than employee and boss while we're at work; the anticipation built up during the day would have to be released somehow. I roll my eyes at her. For years she's been waiting for me to actually be interested in a man enough to seem nervous about going out with him. This is a dream come true for her and I think it only makes it more interesting that the man in question is Christian Grey. All she's really doing is making me more nervous.

Much like a few nights ago, I'm woken suddenly from a vivid dream that I can't quite remember, though I'm fairly certain it starred a certain copper-haired, smoky gray eyed CEO who asked me to go out with him on Friday. My room is dark, but in my dream-hazed mind, for just a moment, I think I see a black shadow standing at the end of my bed. With my heart racing, I reach over and fumble with the bedside lamp and by the time my room is filled with light, the shadow is gone. I'm not sure why I'm feeling so paranoid and anxious these days, but it's becoming tiresome. In some way, I suspect Benjamin is at least partially responsible for it. I remind myself that the restraining order has been updated and the expiration date extended; if I see him again, all I have to do is make one phone call and he goes to jail. And if Kate is with me when I see him, he wouldn't survive long enough for him to be arrested; she has enough residual loathing for him on my behalf that it wouldn't take much to end him for good.

Though it's obvious I'm alone in my bedroom, I'm too uneasy to fall asleep again. I glance at my alarm clock and fall back into my pillows groaning. It's only three in the morning and I didn't go to bed until nearly midnight because I was too distracted about Friday. Unfortunately, I know no matter what I do, sleep will continue to evade me, so I decide to get up and do a bit of work. That keeps me occupied for a couple of hours until I get hungry and head into the kitchen for a bowl of cereal; my exhaustion keeps me from making anything more complicated.

When I return to my room, I frown when I sit at the desk again. I'd been reading through one of Ros's contracts, but the one I had arranged in front of me isn't there. I glance around, check all the folders I have as I wonder if I put it away and just didn't remember. It's not there, it's not anywhere.

"What the fuck?" I mutter, looking around the room. My heart stops when I find the contract stacked neatly on the floor in front of my closet door across the room. Again, I look carefully around my bedroom for any sign that I might not be alone. Nothing else seems to be out of place.

"Losing my mind," I mutter, crossing the room to pick up the contract. It's the only explanation, because I know all the windows and doors in the apartment are locked; I've made certain of that since I found my bedroom window wide open the other night. There's no other way to get in here. I'm too on edge between work and Christian, and not sleeping. One of these nights, I'm going to just come home, collapse in my bed, and sleep for twelve hours straight; that ought to fix things.

In the meantime, I return to my breakfast and the contract, once again searching for a distraction.

...

"Ana, have you seen my keys?" Kate calls out from her bedroom.

I'm leaning against the kitchen counter sipping a cup of coffee, a very rare occurrence for me, but I need all the help I can get this morning. "Did you check between the couch cushions?" I call back. We go through this at least once a week.

"Yes!"

Sighing, I run through the list of alternate locations for her keys. It's nearly eight in the morning and I've still got to take Kate to work before heading to GEH, and I'm sure being late the day after the boss asks me out won't look good for me, even if the boss and I are the only ones aware of it. I don't want him to think I'm taking advantage of his attention to me. When I reach the fifth location on the list, I'm starting to get impatient.

"Kate, do you actually need your keys today? I'm driving you in and picking you up from work. And we're running late as it is," I say irritably. "Can we just go?"

My best friend enters the kitchen with a raised eyebrow as she finishes putting up her hair. "Someone's cranky this morning," she teases. "You'll probably feel better after Friday." I roll my eyes at her suggestiveness. "Besides, I doubt Grey is going to fire you; from what you've said, it sounds like he's into you. But fine, I'll look for my keys later..."

Luckily traffic is on our side this morning and I'm pulling into the GEH parking garage with ten minutes to spare. I rush into the building, digging through my purse for my security ID and joining the line to get through the metal detectors. It's not until I reach the elevators that I notice something isn't right. Glancing around, I notice several eyes are darting curiously in my direction. Some people are smirking while some look away the moment they see me looking back and a few women are glaring at me openly. Most of them are whispering behind their hands about something, but I can't quite figure out what. I'm stuck with them until the last one exits on the nineteenth floor and on my way to the twentieth, convince myself my paranoia is carrying over into my waking hours.

That is until the elevator doors open on the twentieth floor. My eyes widen as I hear shouting coming from Christian's office behind the closed door. I think I can see a group of people in there while he paces angrily in front of them. At her desk, Andrea is typing as though if she works hard enough she can block out the shouting. Her eyes dart up when I step out of the elevator and she shoots a brief look behind her to Christian's office.

"Morning," I say cautiously.

She raises her eyebrows slightly and smiles tightly. "Morning, Miss Steele."

I frown. After my third day here, I asked Andrea to call me Ana or Anastasia and she has been until now. What changed? "Everything okay?" I ask, darting my eyes to Christian's office and wincing at the sound of something breaking.

"Fine, why do you ask?" she asks.

Clearly I'm not going to get any answers from her so I make my way down the hall to my office and I spend close to an hour working before Ros knocks on my door. "Good morning, Ana," she says subdued, entering and closing the door behind her. "We need to talk about something."

"Okay," I say slowly. For the second day in a row, I fear for my job. "What's going on? Have I done something wrong?"

She hesitates for a second, but shakes her head. "No, Ana, you have done nothing wrong," she assures me and I believe her. "I don't know how caught up you are on current events are, but a story broke this morning concerning you and Mr. Grey."

My blood turns to ice. "What?" I ask quietly. We haven't even had a date yet; what the hell story could have broken about us? "What story?"

Ros takes out her phone and searches for something, holding it out for me when she finds it. At the top is a photo of Christian and me when he invited me out to dinner the other night. We're talking and laughing like we're old friends rather than practical strangers, and talks about the apparent romantic setting between us as we dined. Another photo shows him with his hand on my lower back as he guides me back into the SUV.

"Oh," I whisper. "Ros, this isn't..."

She holds up a hand. "I know it's not what it looks like. I've been in a closed room with Christian for the last hour and a half while he shouted at anyone who looked at him. He's got the PR team trying to shut this down before it goes any further, and I'm sure he'll want to speak with you soon about it. You should know that human resources is pushing him to end your internship to avoid this turning into a scandal, but Christian almost fired them for suggesting it. He says this dinner was strictly business; is that what it was?"

"Yeah," I say distractedly, still reading the article on her phone about how Christian Grey is the country's most eligible bachelor and how rumors in the past have had him linked to everyone from princesses of foreign countries to supermodels and Hollywood starlets even though he's never been photographed with anybody. "Um, I was here late and we happened to be leaving at the same time. My roommate had my car so he offered me a ride home and said he had dinner reservations if I wanted to join him. We talked about work for most of the time..." Should I also tell her that he asked me out again for Friday night? Probably not at this point...

"That's what he said, too. Look, this will die down in a few days. Christian has been a target for paparazzi for years; the media is obsessed with him because he refuses to be interviewed for anything not directly related to work. It always dies down. Hell, a few years ago, they were trying to say he and I were together and that sure as hell wasn't true. Personally, I thought it was hilarious, he a little less so. The point is that story died out within two days and there haven't been any issues since. They'll figure out they're just fishing for a story and back off. In the meantime, try to ignore the stares and whispers. If anyone really bothers you, let me know and they'll live to regret it."

I actually crack a smile at that. "Thanks," I say weakly, startling when her phone begins to ring in my hand. Automatically, I glance down at the display and see _CG_ is the caller.

Ros winces and grabs the phone from me to answer the call. "Yes, boss?" she greets him. I can vaguely make out Christian's voice on the other end of the line and it doesn't sound like he's shouting anymore, so that must be a good sign. Ros hangs up and looks relieved as she sits back in her chair. "The good news is he's past the tantrum phase," she says mostly to herself. "For now, it might be best if you just kept your head down, at least until his blood pressure is under control. If you do happen to run into him, keep in mind he's not actually angry with you. He doesn't like his private life invaded on any level and being thrust so suddenly into the light has never been his favorite thing. I think he's also angry on your behalf; you don't deserve being dragged through the gossip rags and it's because of him you are. Just don't take anything he says personally, okay?"

"Sure," I say faintly, my head still spinning from this entire situation.

Ros gives me a sympathetic smile, pats me on the leg and goes on about her day, leaving me to regain my footing after she pulled the rug out from under me. My buzzing cell phone gets my attention and I find five text messages from Kate since I walked into GEH less than an hour ago. The first couple are alerting me of the article that broke, the more recent ones asking if I'm alive and urging me to call her at my earliest convenience. I curse under my breath as I remember I never actually told Kate that Christian took me to dinner and gave me a ride home the other night. I'll have hell to pay later for that, but right now I'm not ready to be interrogated by her.

In an attempt to get through the day in one piece, I bury myself in work until it's time for lunch when Ros pops in to say she's going to have Andrea order her a sandwich and asks if I want anything. The thought of food right now turns my stomach so I politely decline and wonder vaguely why my boss is ordering food for her assistant and not the other way around. I decide Ros feels sorry for me and doesn't want to put me through being forced to walk through the building under the gazes of every person employed by GEH.

Around three o'clock, I receive an email alert and open the mail program, fighting a yawn despite the six cups of tea I've had to drink today. And when I see who sent the email, I promptly choke on cup number seven.

...

 **From:** Christian Grey

 **To:** Anastasia Steele

 **Subject:** (no subject)

Anastasia,

I'm not entirely certain where to begin. By now I'm certain that you've seen the story that has broken regarding our dinner the other night and have received some fallout because of it. Firstly, I apologize for this. It's one thing for the media to pry into my private life; I got into this business and sought success. Unwanted attention comes with the territory. But it's another thing entirely for them to target somebody simply because I invited them to dinner. I assure you that this story has been brought under the control of my PR team; by tomorrow afternoon it will be nothing more than an unfound rumor.

Secondly, I will fully understand if this has given you second thoughts about Friday night, but I sincerely hope that is not the case. I have spent the last couple weeks since you began working at GEH with you on my mind and it has taken me this long to ask you to spend an evening with me; hopefully you feel the same and won't allow the tabloids dictate what you do in your private time. The choice lies solely with you, of course, and whatever you decide, I will abide by that.

Aside from the obvious, I hope your day is going well and that I hear from you soon either way.

Christian Grey

CEO Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

...

I read the email half a dozen more times to check whether I'm actually reading it correctly. He's spent weeks with me on his mind? And he seems very eager for Friday evening even after this morning's shouting match and—what did Ros call it? A tantrum—in his office over this article. The thought makes me smile for the first time all day. Considering there was a part of me that expected him to call off the date altogether because of this, I know what my answer will be.

...

 **From:** Anastasia Steele

 **To:** Christian Grey

 **Subject:** RE: (no subject)

Mr. Grey,

Yes, I am now very aware of the story that is being reported about us. I accept your apology, though it is wholly unnecessary; it certainly isn't your fault that somebody was hanging around waiting to make a few bucks with a couple photos and a story that is obviously exaggerated. Personally, I've never been interested in celebrity gossip so I don't understand the draw, but it is what it is, I suppose. I appreciate your effort to take care of this.

I can't say I really had any second thoughts about Friday, though I thought you might. From what little I know of you, you're a very private person and I imagine you typically go to pains to keep it that way. It comes as a relief to me to see I'm not the only one who has been a bit distracted since I joined GEH. And I certainly wouldn't allow anyone to dictate what I do in my private life, particularly not the tabloids.

Aside from the obvious, I am having a good day and hope the same for you. And that your throat has recovered from all that shouting first thing this morning.

Anastasia Steele

...

To my surprise, he replies after only a few minutes.

...

 **From:** Christian Grey

 **To:** Anastasia Steele

 **Subject:** RE: (no subject)

Anastasia,

I am very relieved the sudden attention you've been thrust into hasn't scared you off. If it had, I'd be tempted to buy every tabloid magazine publisher in the city of Seattle and run them all into the ground. Thank you for being understanding about the whole thing.

In order to lessen any further unwanted attention, I could arrange for us to have dinner at my apartment Friday night if you prefer. I'll understand if you wouldn't feel comfortable with such an arrangement, but at least this way we'll have privacy so that we can get to know one another without interruption. If this is an acceptable suggestion, I can have Taylor pick you up from your apartment or you could drive yourself, whichever you prefer. Again, please let me know.

I certainly appreciate the concern for the state of my throat, but I assure you it is in perfect working order. A demonstration may be available if you don't believe me...

Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Holdings Enterprises, Inc.

...

A demonstration? What the hell does that even mean? I'm not sure I'm old enough to find out...

At his apartment? Tempting as it is, I wonder about whether being in his territory would make it more likely that we do more than simply have dinner together, and then I wonder why that would be a problem. True, at nearly twenty-two years old I am still a virgin, but that's mostly because I haven't met anybody I would consider having sex with. Naturally, that asks the question about whether I'm considering having sex with Christian should the opportunity arise. And I think the answer is yes. I may be innocent when it comes to the opposite sex, but I'm certainly not blind. Christian is by far the most attractive man I've ever met and it's more than that; he fascinates me. I've already seen so many sides of him and I'm sure there is much more to be found. So bad idea or not, regardless of what it might do to my work life, I think I'm willing to take a chance for once in my life and give in to my first attraction to a man.

...

 **From:** Anastasia Steele

 **To:** Christian Grey

 **Subject:** RE: (no subject)

Mr. Grey,

I accept your suggestion to have dinner at your apartment, though I think I'll drive myself. What time should I be there?

Anastasia Steele

...

It takes a little longer this time for him to reply and when he does, he suggests I come over around seven on Friday night and gives me codes to access both the parking garage in his building and the code for the elevator to bring me to his apartment—the penthouse. I smile wryly and roll my eyes. Of course he lives in the penthouse...

...

My mood improves greatly after the email exchanges with Christian to the point that when I leave my office to go down the hall to make some copies, I realize I have lulled myself into a false sense of security. Though this is the executive floor of GEH and the people who work up here are mostly in managerial positions, it doesn't stop them from staring at me or the whispers I can hear trailing behind me. I think back to high school and what happened every time somebody actually noticed me. It wasn't often and I preferred it like that, especially after the incident in Texas right before I moved back in with Ray. There were plenty of whispers and laughs about me then and this isn't much different—both situations were based on lies. True, I can't exactly just move to escape the attention here; besides, that was almost five years ago and I've learned to better handle myself since then. So let them whisper and giggle and assume; I know the truth, so does Christian, and that's what matters for now.

"Hey, Ana, haven't seen you in a while."

I turn away from the copier and find Brandon Riley, head of the GEH legal team leaning on the open door in a full suit and tie with his hands stuffed into his pockets. "Hi, Brandon," I say quietly, fighting to maintain politeness. The last time we talked alone, he hit on me even though his girlfriend is pregnant. Christian saved me the trouble of blowing him off that night; part of me wishes he'd do the same thing now.

A glance out of the corner of my eye catches movement of Brandon shooting his gaze over his shoulder as though he's also remembering Christian's interruption last time and wanting to assure himself it won't be repeated. "You are the talk of GEH today," he says, grinning as he pushes off the doorframe.

"I'd noticed," I mutter dryly.

"Legal and PR are being kept busy trying to squash this thing," he goes on as though he didn't hear me. "Obviously it's bullshit; why would someone like you settle for a dick like Grey?"

My eyebrows shoot up and my mouth drops open. "What is that supposed to mean?" I ask, offended on both my part and Christian's.

Brandon raises his hands in defeat even though he doesn't seem particularly apologetic. "Look, you should know something about Grey. A lot of girls around here spend too much time pining and drooling over the guy, doing everything but dropping to their knees in front of him in the middle of the building, and they never get anywhere. I like you, Ana, and I really don't want to see you get your feelings hurt or whatever. Grey isn't who he pretends to be; the stories I could tell you..." He shakes his head, laughing, as though he's talking about a hyperactive puppy tearing up his shoes. "The point is you seem like a sweet kid, Ana; Grey would chew you up and spit you out before you know what's happening."

I don't know whether to laugh or slap him. I settle on something a bit more diplomatic. "I appreciate the advice," I say evenly, finishing up my copying and getting my paperwork together, "but I can handle myself, not that it's any of your business. Don't lump me in with every other woman in this building. As for my feelings being hurt, I'd be more worried about your pregnant fiancée's feelings if she ever finds out you were hitting on me in the hotel in Taiwan." I inwardly cheer triumphantly when he visibly pales and glances over his shoulder again to check whether we're alone. "And as far as Mr. Grey not being who he pretends to be, whatever that means, don't you think it's a really bad idea to even be saying that to me as the head of his legal department?"

He swallows hard, but doesn't seem to have a response. "No offense meant," he says soberly.

Rolling my eyes, I push past him through the copy room door with the intent of returning to my desk, balling up my jacket, and using it to muffle what I hope will be a cathartic scream of absolute frustration. I'm stopped before I can even turn the corner back to my office by what could be a brick wall, though I have to admit it smells much better than the typical brick wall...

Two hands immediately fly to my shoulders to keep me upright and I slowly look up the fit-looking, suit-covered, delicious-smelling brick wall and find Christian's face tight with anger or annoyance—I'm not sure which—as he glares over my head at Brandon Riley. Suddenly I really want to be anywhere else but here, despite how nice it feels to have Christian's hands on me. I don't bother questioning whether he heard any of the conversation between Brandon and me; if it were at all possible, I'm absolutely certain that flames would shooting from his eyes to burn Brandon where he stands.

"My office, Riley," he says coldly. "Now."

I almost expect to see a puddle of urine at Brandon's feet. The glare and implied threat isn't directed at me in the slightest, but it's still slightly frightening. Brandon walks around Christian and me, and I swear he's shaking in terror. Once he's out of range, Christian's glare turns to the few curious onlookers who've stopped what they're doing to watch the show. Every one of them immediately returns to their work as though they believe if they stop paying attention, they won't be caught staring. Next Christian looks down at me and his expression softens immediately as he guides me back into the relative privacy of the copy room.

"I'm sorry we were talking about you," I blurt as he closes the door behind us. "Brandon..."

He holds up a hand to stop me, a small smile on his lips. "I know, I heard," he says quietly. "Riley has been on thin ice for months now and the only reason he still has a job is because I was doing a favor for my father. Riley's father works with mine and if not for that and the fact that he really is great at his job when he's not being a dick, I never would have hired him in the first place."

"What are you going to do with him?" I ask with trepidation.

Christian smirks, closing a bit of the distance between us and reaching up to pull my lip free of my teeth. He then rubs his thumb gently over the skin as though he's trying to smooth out the indents I made in it. "Well, considering I'm in a relatively good mood because I have a date with a beautiful young woman Friday evening despite the fact that our last outing together resulted in her becoming tabloid fodder, I'll be gentle with him and simply kick him out on his ass on the sidewalk."

I have no idea how to respond to that. He just called me beautiful and for the first time in my life, I almost believe it might be true. "If it's because you think he was bothering me, it's not necessary," I say, flushing at the thought that he might fire a long time employee for my sake. 

"It's not only that," he replies. "He very nearly violated his NDA and I don't tolerate that. He shouldn't have been discussing me with you in the first place. Besides, I can't stand him."

I smile tentatively, assuming he added the last sentence to lighten the atmosphere. "I'll have to make sure I stay on your good side then if all it takes to get fired is annoying you occasionally," I say through twitching lips.

He gives me a thousand megawatt smile and his eyes are dancing in amusement. "Miss Steele, I seriously doubt you could even get on my bad side," he says quietly. His eyes darken a few shades and I flush again as I wonder what it is he's thinking about. "As much as I'd like to stand here with you all afternoon, I have an asshole in my office waiting to get fired."

"Right," I say, taking a pointed step back from him as I suddenly recall we're at work and anybody could walk through the unlocked door at any time. "I should get back to work, too."

He's frowning slightly, possibly at the distance I put between us. "I'd offer you a ride home this evening, but I've got an appointment shortly after I leave here," he says apologetically.

"No, it's fine, I have my car today," I say as he turns to open the door, gesturing for me to leave the room first. I look around and am surprised when I don't see one head snapping away from us to avoid being caught. The threat of Christian Grey's wrath seems to be a bit stronger than what I've heard. "Thank you, though."

"Not a problem, Miss Steele," he murmurs as he also glances around the area for eavesdroppers. "If you have any further questions about what we discussed earlier, please don't hesitate to drop by my office."

We walk in relative silence back to my office, passing Ros's on the way. She looks up from her computer with her desk phone held between her shoulder and ear, and raises an eyebrow at us. Both Christian and I pretend to not see it, though I now feel slightly guilty after telling Ros there is nothing between Christian and me this morning only for her to see us walking down the hall together. I don't doubt she caught a glimpse of Brandon on his way to Christian's office a few minutes ago.

 _You told her the dinner you had with Christian the other night was only that and it's true,_ my subconscious reminds me. _You've done nothing wrong. Yet._

It's the yet part that bothers me, though I can't put a finger on why. Christian sends me another brief smile before heading down to his office and I close my door at the thought that there will probably be some more shouting coming from down the hall, and I'm not eager to overhear whatever happens.


	8. Chapter 8

At the end of the day, I'm eager to get the hell out of this place for the first time since I started working here. Since I woke up way too early this morning, all I've wanted is a bath and bed. Now I think I'll add a glass or three of the wine in the fridge at home and possibly a giant bowl of ice cream. Unfortunately I know I'll be spending most of the evening answering questions for Kate. Maybe she'll take pity on me and drop the subject altogether. As I reach the elevator, I huff a laugh to myself; Kate rarely drops any subject for long and I'd be an idiot to think she won't want to discuss the fact that I'm in the tabloids linked to Seattle's Most Eligible Bachelor.

"Ana!"

I glance out the doors and quickly hit the hold button long enough for Ros to catch up with me.

"Thanks," she says with a smile, hitching her bag higher on her shoulder. "Despite the fact that these are some of the fastest elevators I've ever been on, at this time of day, it takes forever to get up here."

"No problem," I reply. "It might be nice to have a buffer between me and all the staring and sneers."

Ros chuckles throatily. "Always happy to help. I heard what happened with Brandon earlier," she says, rolling her eyes. "That idiot never did know when to keep his damn mouth shut. I think the real issue is that people who have worked here for years have never learned anything even remotely personal about Christian and now this happens; it's bound to turn a few heads and elicit some whispers. As for the sneers, they're probably coming from the women who've spent years fantasizing about them being the ones photographed with him and you're stealing their thunder."

"I don't want their thunder," I mutter.

Ros smirks. "I know," she says. "I'll give you a bit of advice, though: Whatever happens—and it's not my business to question Christian's decisions in his private life—don't let them get under your skin. And they will try. If it hasn't happened yet, it won't be long before you're getting cornered in the bathrooms by women wanting detailed accounts of things. What people don't always listen to is that Christian's private life is off limits and it always has been. I only know him as well as I do because we've known each other since senior year in high school. Anyone caught gossiping about him will meet the same fate as Brandon and I have no doubt that goes double for anyone harassing you about it. If there is any trouble, let me know and we'll try to head it off at the pass before it turns into World War III around here."

I can only stare at her. If I didn't know any better, I'd say she knows something else might be happening with Christian and me, or at least that I'm seeing him on Friday night and not for work-related reasons. Studying her expression, I can't find any hint that she disapproves.

She catches my perplexed stare and smiles. "I'm not stupid, Ana. And neither is Christian even though I do wonder what he's thinking at times. He'd probably fire me for saying this, but it needs to be said: Just be careful. This has the possibility to be an HR nightmare for both of you and it will only take one person whining about unfair treatment before there is a real problem, not only a tabloid one. I think you're smart enough to figure out what you want and to make your own decisions, but if you need anything, even if it's only to vent about Christian, come find me."

Our conversation wraps up immediately when the doors open to allow more people on. Though I'd been joking about using Ros as a buffer, I think that's exactly what she's becoming because not one person so much as looks in my direction on the entire ride down to the parking garage. Ros and I part at her parking space, right next to Christian's, and she sends me a reassuring wink and a smile, telling me she'll see me in the morning.

On my way to pick up Kate, I think through everything that's happened today and try not to get too dizzy. I think about Ros's words about how whatever might happen between Christian and me has the potential to be a nightmare for him and his company. Not to mention I'd be forever labeled as the girl who fucked the boss to keep the job she doesn't deserve in the first place.

I nearly lose control of the car. _Who the hell said anything about fucking the boss?_ I ask myself, unnerved. One thing at a time here; Friday night will be the second time we've had dinner together and while I'm no expert, I think I heard somewhere that the third date is the one where sex is on the table. Hmm... Sex with Christian on the table... That has its merits.

Okay, I really need some sleep; clearly the deprivation is screwing with my head.

Out of curiosity, I reach into my purse for the BlackBerry I was issued by GEH last week and search for anything related to Christian and me. To my shock, there isn't even one mention of us or any photos. I assume it's because of Christian's PR team shutting the whole thing down; I expected it to take longer, but I'm relieved it's not out there anymore. This probably won't be the last time it happens assuming things go well between Christian and me, so I'll need to develop a thicker skin if I want to get through it without cracking.

I glance over at the building where Kate works, waiting for her to exit, and when I look away my eyes are drawn a little ways down the sidewalk and I blanch. I'm not sure if it's the drama from the day, my anxiety of dinner with Christian on Friday, or just exhaustion, but I can see Benjamin casually leaning against the side of another building and I think if I measured, the distance would be exactly what the restraining order against him demands and not an inch closer. He isn't doing anything apart from staring directly at me. I could call the police and report him, but he isn't violating the order, so it's likely all it would do is irritate him.

I jump and manage to bite back a surprised yelp when the passenger side door opens and Kate quickly slips in. I look back to where I last saw Benjamin, but he's gone now. Maybe I'm just paranoid.

"Spill," Kate demands by way of greeting.

"Hi, Kate, it's good to see you, too. How was your day?" I ask, smiling sweetly at her.

She narrows her gaze on me. "Don't get all cute on me, Steele," she says sternly. "What the hell is going on with you and Grey? More importantly, _how long_ has it been going on?"

I roll my eyes and check my mirrors before pulling into traffic, already forgetting about seeing Benjamin before. "Nothing is going on," _yet_ , "I was working late the night you had my car and when I started to leave, he was doing the same thing. When he found out I intended to call a cab for a ride home, he offered to take me so I wouldn't have to wait and he said he was on his way to dinner and invited me along. I suspect he probably gets tired of eating alone." Though after this afternoon in the copy room, I'm starting to think he's tired of doing a lot of things alone...

"So you're not hiding a secret billionaire boyfriend from me?" Kate asks suspiciously.

I laugh. "No, definitely not."

"So what's Friday about?"

I flush, concentrating extra hard on the road in front of me. "I'm pretty sure that is a date," I mutter uncertainly. I don't think either of us has actually called it such, but what else could it be? "And actually, he invited me to his apartment instead of going out."

Kate looks at me sharply. "Why?" she demands.

Sighing, I glance at her out of the corner of my eyes. "Probably because he's a very private person and doesn't want to be in the tabloids because he's having dinner with someone. And I think he's nervous that the attention will freak me out or something."

Kate huffs a laugh. "So he does know you already? Impressive," she teases. I spent my four years in college avoiding anything that would draw attention to me. Nevertheless, I send my best glare at Kate. "So if you're going to his apartment where the two of you are going to be all on your own for hours on end, are you going to finally...?"

"Going to finally what, Katherine?" I ask, trying to sound stern; I fail miserably.

"Oh, come on, Ana! Most people lose their virginity during high school and those who didn't lose it in college. Somehow you've skipped out on both and all of a sudden you're the object of affection for a ridiculously hot, disgustingly wealthy man who happens to be your boss. I thought you read books; this is exactly how trashy romance novels start."

I want to be insulted or embarrassed, but my only reaction is to laugh. "Great, that's exactly what I've been waiting for," I say sarcastically. "And for the record, you're the one with the trashy romance novel collection."

"Only because you blush just looking at some of the covers," she counters not untruthfully. I've often wondered whether it's legal for some of those covers to actually be printed for the mainstream. "I'm not saying it's a bad thing, Ana. Some of those sex scenes are really hot. Maybe you should read a few before Friday so you know what to expect."

"Oh, my God, Kate!" I say loudly, laughing incredulously because we're actually having this conversation. "Will you just relax? It's dinner, nothing else. Besides, after the twelfth time I drop his expensive silverware on his even more expensive dinner dishes, he'll probably be sick of me."

Kate rolls her eyes. "Ana, I love you like you're my sister, but you really need to build up some self-esteem. We have spent almost five years with each other and I lost track halfway through freshman year how many guys I saw eyeing you whenever we went out. You turned down every date because you wanted to focus on school or something else."

"I didn't turn down every date," I mutter darkly.

She grimaces sympathetically. "I hate to say it, but it's still a good example. You're hot, Ana Steele. Guys would have to be blind to not be attracted to you. I'm not shocked that Grey is interested; I'm shocked that you actually seem to be just as interested. But hey, if you're not ready, I'm sure as hell not going to pressure you and if he tries, kick him right in the balls and tell him to shove your job up his ass. Go at your pace, sweetie, and you'll be fine. All you really need to remember is to not do anything that I wouldn't do."

"Oh, right, that's helpful," I say sarcastically, pulling into my parking space outside our apartment building. "Because there is so much you wouldn't do."

She laughs. "Touché, Steele," she says as we get out of the car. "So what are we thinking for dinner? I'd ask you to make that famous lasagna of yours, but you look exhausted. Chinese or pizza?"

We're debating each choice up until we reach the apartment door and we both stop dead, staring dumbly at the set of keys hanging out of the deadlock. "Are those mine?" Kate whispers, looking between me and the keys. She steps a little closer to examine them without actually touching them as though she's afraid they'll explode if she does. "Didn't you lock the door this morning?"

"Of course I did," I answer affronted. "Maybe one of the neighbors saw them and recognized them, and put them here so you'd see them."

"How would any of the neighbors recognize my keys?" she asks. "I haven't even had the chance to meet any of them."

Sighing, I step forward and pull the keys from the lock, showing them to Kate so she can see the where she had our apartment number etched into the apartment key to avoid getting it mixed up with the keys for her parents' house and the others that look similar.

"Oh," she says, sighing in relief and smiling. "Well, thank you, strange neighbors, for figuring that one out."

I roll my eyes as she unlocks the door for us and enter. Because I've been so on edge lately, I automatically look around the apartment for any sign that someone has been here who shouldn't. Thankfully there is nothing.

After finally settling on Chinese, Kate makes the call to place the order while I sprawl out on the couch and shut my eyes for a few minutes. All in all, it's been a strange day and there are still two more between now and Friday when I have dinner with Christian. Hopefully, they'll be less eventful, but I'm not holding my breath.

* * *

 **A/N:** Thanks as always for reading and reviewing. You guys are awesome. I realize this is a shorter than normal chapter, but the next one is the big dare and after that, several questions regarding Ana's stalker will be revealed. I'll update again probably Friday!


	9. Chapter 9

To my everlasting relief, the rest of the week has gone quickly. I'm still exhausted and waking up long before my alarm clock sounds. I still get looks at work, but I think most of the whispers and interest surrounding me have ceased. Yesterday, Thursday, I met with my fellow interns to discuss how our first couple weeks have gone at GEH. Unfortunately for my peers, they don't have nearly as interesting a report that I do, though I have to remind myself, I'm the only one interning for upper management. I've gotten a few looks of jealousy from them, but it's easy enough to ignore, especially after the whole tabloid thing. The other interns all tend to run into each other during their days, unlike me, so they've had time to get to know one another, leaving me to feel like the outsider. It's nothing new and it doesn't particularly bother me anymore.

Today, Friday also known as Dinner with Christian Night, the twentieth floor is quieter than normal. Christian is down in Portland on business which makes Ros the top of the GEH ladder. I've spent most of my day fielding phone calls to determine whether they're important enough to send on to Ros or take a message for Christian. I've walked every floor of the building several times when Ros has asked me to fetch paperwork from another department. I even spoke to Christian's brother Elliot, though I didn't know who he was at the time. He sounded interesting and like quite the flirt over the phone and Ros told me afterwards that's exactly what he's like in person. She also told me not to discuss Christian's family in the workplace setting; Christian prefers to keep them as far from his professional life as possible.

"That being said, he invests in Elliot's company, Grey Construction and that's been pretty successful all around," she says as we sit in her office eating Chinese from cardboard containers and chopsticks. "They actually designed and built this building a few years back. Since then, they've been involved in most of the biggest projects in the city. Seriously, Ana, that family was built to succeed..."

I smile at that and once again wonder why, if that's true, Christian seems to want anything to do with me. I guess we'll find out this evening.

We both straighten up suddenly when there is a brisk knock on the door. It's Andrea and she's carrying a bouquet of flowers. I look expectantly at Ros assuming they're for her from Gwen, but Andrea says they're for me.

"What?" I say with a high-pitched, surprised tone. "Are you sure?"

Andrea smiles. "Anastasia Steele, GEH, Twentieth floor," she reads from the envelope. "So who are they from?"

I've gotten the impression that while everyone seems to enjoy working for Christian for the most part, but when he's out of the building for extended periods, everyone else tends to get a little more lax and sociable. "I have no idea," I say anxiously, glancing at Ros who is looking from me to the flowers with probably the same thought I'm having right now. Only one person comes to mind when I think about receiving flowers from somebody and I'm not particularly eager to announce to Andrea that I think they might be from our boss.

I take the flowers, having abandoned my food when Andrea entered, and open the card to read it. Immediately, I drop the flowers and the card as though they've burned me.

"Ana?" Ros says, standing from behind her desk to approach me with caution. "What's wrong?"

I force a smile. "Nothing," I say shortly, gathering the flowers and the card before Ros can read it. "I'm clumsy, just dropped them."

Neither Ros nor Andrea believes the lie, not that I blame them, but they don't call me on it. "Um, I just need to make a phone call before I get back to work..." I mutter hastily, rushing through the door that connects my office to Ros's. I'm not sure whether to shove these flowers through the shredder, call the police, or have a panic attack at his audacity to make contact with me at work. I look again at the card:

 _You looked beautiful this morning._

 _with your hair down._

 _I notice you still take your English_

 _breakfast tea bag out._

 _x_

"This has to be a fucking nightmare," I mutter, dropping the card onto my desk. I thought this had ended years ago at school and despite the fact that I've seen him around Seattle and was paranoid enough to update the restraining order, I've been trying to convince myself that perhaps it was a coincidence. Kate would slap me for saying so. She'd also slap me for not reporting this.

I'm tempted to slap myself.

I'm reaching for my cell phone when Ros knocks on the door. "Hey, I need you in here for the conference call," she says, scrutinizing every detail about me.

"Right, of course," I say, stashing the card in my desk and dropping my phone back into my purse. "Sorry, I just got distracted."

* * *

It's the end of the day and the only good thing that has come from it so far is a text message from Christian telling me he's looking forward to dinner this evening. I replied saying I'm looking forward to it, too, and while I am very much looking forward to it, I'm distracted from the flower delivery earlier today. I've still got a couple of hours before I need to be at Christian's apartment, so I decide to drop by the Seattle police department and file a complaint. I'm not sure if there is even much they can do since there is no evidence of who actually sent the flowers. I suppose they could call the flower company and trace the sender that way, but he's smart enough to cover his tracks. He probably paid cash and gave a fake name.

And that is exactly what the police think happened as well. Thankfully they took my concern seriously since I had the forethought to get a restraining order and they assure me they will keep an eye on things around my apartment building for the next few nights, but there isn't a whole lot they can do. Once again, I'm told to report anything that happens so that it's on the record and to lock my windows, doors, and my car at night—everything my parents taught me when I was six. I give them a tight smile knowing if there was anything they could do, they would and it's not their fault there is a psychopath on the streets hell bent on making my life miserable.

At home I change into my first date dress and Kate rushes me through hair and makeup while I tell her about the card and flowers.

"Are you sure you should go tonight?" she asks dubiously. "You do remember what happened when you started hanging out with José regularly, right?"

I cringe at the memory. "With painful clarity," I reply. "But I really don't see him getting into a secured parking garage and carving 'slut' into the side of Christian's car."

The look Kate gives me asks if I really want to bet on that, but she doesn't comment. "Well, I'll be with my parents this weekend so I won't be home whenever you drag yourself back," she says. "Ethan's coming home and we've got familial obligations to put up with."

My lips twitch. "Oh, poor you, surrounded by a loving, supportive family," I remark sarcastically. She replies by sticking out her tongue. "Yeah, real mature, Kavanagh."

She grins proudly, though it fades quickly. "Are you going to tell Grey about all of this?" she asks quietly, looking at me through the mirror.

"Do you think I should?" I ask nervously. "I mean, he freaked out because someone took a couple pictures of us and his privacy was being invaded. How's he going to react when I just come out with 'oh, by the way, I have a stalker who likes to carve slurs into cars and has followed me from Portland'?"

"Well, assuming he's not the complete asshole I've heard he can be in business, he'll be understanding about it. It's not your fault, Ana. You didn't ask for this crap. Besides, honesty is important in a relationship, right? So be honest with him," she instructs.

She deems me date perfect a few minutes later and nervous as I am, I give her a hug, she wishes me luck, and I make a mad dash to the car. I've still got plenty of time to get to Christian's apartment, but I don't want to risk being late. Besides, I haven't seen him at all today and I'm much more eager than I should be to get to him.

Taking a deep breath, I watch as the elevator doors slide shut after I punched in the key code for Christian's apartment. I have just enough time to tuck away the few strands of hair that fell loose on the drive over and to make sure the little bit of makeup I'm wearing hasn't smudged embarrassingly. Rather than opening in a hallway like other apartment building elevators, the doors open upon a foyer leading to a set of large, open double doors. I barely register the beautiful flower arrangement on the table just outside the elevator when Christian comes around a corner.

I think I might have left my breath in the elevator. I was uncertain about wearing the dress Kate and I bought tonight since we decided to have dinner in Christian's apartment, but I'm suddenly glad I am wearing it. He's not in a full suit like I'm used to seeing; instead he's wearing his suit pants and the white shirt he probably wore beneath his jacket today—the first three buttons of which are undone and I get a tiny glimpse at his chest. And he's removed both his shoes and socks. I'm now left wondering if I've ever even noticed a man's feet before or if it's simply that it's Christian that makes them attractive.

When my eyes return to his I notice he's been giving me a once over as well and his eyes darken further as I bite my lip without realizing.

"Miss Steele," he murmurs, a small smile on his lips as he closes the distance between us like a predator hunting its prey. "You look beautiful."

I flush. "Thank you," I say shyly, unable to tear my gaze from his. I want to tell him he looks good as well—better than good, really—but I can't find the words.

The smirk he gives me suggests he already knows what I'm thinking. "Please, come in. Welcome to my home," he says, gently guiding me into the apartment. It takes me a minute to register that we really are in an apartment as opposed to a house what with the high ceilings and second floor.

"How was work today?" he asks, leading me to the kitchen and indicating I take a seat at the breakfast bar. "Any fires I need to put out?"

I shake my head. "No, everything was fine as far as I know. It was quiet, but fine," I tell him, smirking a little at the end.

He glances at me over his shoulder as he retrieves a bottle of wine and two glasses; thankfully he looks amused. "I imagine it was," he says. We talk for a few minutes about work in general and the flower delivery crosses my mind yet again, but I only just arrived and I'm hoping to get a little further into the evening before bringing up my issues and undoubtedly ruining things. He tells me about his trip to Portland—apparently he has his own helicopter and when he sees my interest, he offers to take me up in it some time. I fight against biting my lip; he's already assuming there will be another date if that's actually what this is. I'm still not entirely sure on the terminology.

"I hope you're hungry," Christian says quietly, leaning beside me on the breakfast bar. He's running his index finger lightly up and down my hand, distracting me from everything. I'd like to ask him _hungry for what?_ but I don't quite have the nerve. "Dinner is ready when we are."

I look behind me when his gaze darts that way and find the dining table set for two complete an unlit candle. At each place setting sits a silver dome-covered plate. I turn back to Christian with a surprised raised eyebrow. "You cook, too?" I ask, unable to hide the incredulity from my voice. Is there nothing the man can't do?

He actually throws back his head and laughs. "You don't have to sound so outraged, Anastasia," he says, still chuckling. "But no, I don't cook. My housekeeper did and left very detailed instructions even a man as inept at cooking as I am could follow to reheat everything to perfection."

"Well, having seen your attention to detail, I'm sure it turned out wonderfully," I say placatingly.

He narrows his eyes at me, but he's smiling. "I'm not sure if you're teasing me or not," he says quietly, raising a finger to trail down my cheek and making me shiver. If he can get that sort of reaction from me by barely touching me, what would happen if he used more than a finger—like his lips? I swallow hard against the thoughts, trying to fight my flush. He withdraws his hand, frowning slightly. "Shall we eat, Ana?"

Ana. He called me Ana. I'm not sure he's done that since the day we met and I really like it. Smiling shyly, I nod and let him lead me over to the table, pulling out a chair for me. Before taking his own seat, he reaches into his pocket for a small remote control and from somewhere in the apartment, I hear soft beautiful music start to play. A moment later, he lights a candle between us. "Very romantic, Mr. Grey," I say quietly, partly teasing because I don't want to make things awkward.

He freezes for a moment as though he forgot what he was doing, gives me a brief smile, and sits across the table from me. We remove the domes from our plates and set them aside, and I'm looking at a plate of gourmet food that probably cost as much as my weekly grocery bills. Ignoring that, I inhale and find the scent mouth-watering. "This looks great," I say quietly, taking a sip of wine, conscious that I drove here, and pick up my silverware.

For the first few minutes, we eat in silence, occasionally stealing glances at one another like teenagers, and if I didn't know any better, I'd say Christian Grey is nervous. Well, if that's the case, he's certainly not the only one.

"I'm sorry," Christian says suddenly, refilling our wine glasses. I look at him uncertainly and he gestures between us. "This isn't something I'm accustomed to. I'm a little out of my element."

"I am, too," I say. "I don't really date all that much." I flinch. Why the hell would I say that to him?

Thankfully he doesn't seem put-off by my sudden, awkward honesty. "Neither do I," he admits, frowning briefly again. I'm actually surprised by that. It's common knowledge that Christian hasn't ever been seen with a date, but a man of his means could certainly find a way to keep his love life a secret. The way he so successfully shut down that article and those pictures of us showed me that much. "In fact, I never date."

I nearly choke on the piece of chicken I just put in my mouth. "Never?" I ask, trying not to sound as incredulous as I believe I might. _Even I've dated, once, though not with much success..._ Again, I wonder if I should tell him about Benjamin, and again, I decide this isn't the right time.

He chuckles wryly at my reaction. "I have spent quite a lot of time working on my company," he explains. "My personal life isn't what one would call conventional."

My eyebrows rise. "Oh?" I ask in surprise. "What does that mean?"

His amusement is gone almost immediately and his eyes dart past me to some spot in his apartment. "Let's eat first," he says quietly. "I'd like at least one more meal with you before you go running for the hills."

And just like that, my appetite is gone. Why does he think I would run from the hills? And what makes his personal life not conventional? "Why would I run for the hills?" I ask bravely.

He studies me for several long moments and I try to decipher his expression. There's something dangerous but exciting in his eyes along with uncertainty and forced restraint. He sighs. "Ana, I follow a very strict set of rules that keeps my life balanced. The number one rule is keeping my business life separate from my personal life. Having you here in my home like this shatters that rule into nonexistence, but I can't seem to help myself. You fascinate me in a way I don't understand and you have since the day we met."

"Oh," I gasp in surprise. So it's not just me...

"I realize the risk posed by someone in my position being involved in any way but a professional one with an intern. Every time I hear about some scandal, I roll my eyes and wonder how someone could be that stupid, but I think I'm starting to understand why they take the risk."

"Why?" I whisper, eyes wide as I hang on his every word.

He smiles slightly. "Because sometimes it's worth the risk," he says simply, though I'm still not all that clear. "I'm not entirely sure whether any sort of relationship apart from a professional one could work between us, but for the first time, I want to find out. But of course this doesn't only affect me. This week has painfully proven that anything that happens between us has the potential to follow you around not only GEH but wherever you might go should you move on. The last thing I want is for anybody to treat you like you're getting special treatment from the boss even though that's exactly what will be happening."

I frown this time. "I don't see why I would have to be given special treatment," I say slowly, trying not to over think this conversation. "Work is work; we're both mature enough to keep that separate from anything else."

He smirks and I can almost catch the thought passing through his mind. It makes me blush. "That's logical in theory," he responses, "but in practice, I think it will be a little more difficult. I can barely keep my distance from you as it is. I already spend my days watching you move around the office and think things that are without a doubt not appropriate for the workplace."

"Oh." My mouth has dropped open as I wonder what exactly he means by that. I have a few images in my head, but with no previous experience to draw from, my imagination is limited.

"Besides, I have the feeling that if there were a relationship between us, the last thing I would want is to keep it secret," he says darkly.

"I wouldn't want that either, but if it was the only way..." I say, once again wondering how I'm speaking about this so calmly as though it's a business deal.

He sits back in his chair, running a hand through his messy copper hair. What I wouldn't give to do that for him, to find out if it's as soft as it looks... "It's much more difficult than that," he says quietly, almost as though he's trying to talk himself out of whatever we're discussing. Suddenly he pushes back from the table and stands. "Stay here a moment."

A second later, I'm left alone at the table sipping my wine while my mind plays catch up. From the sound of it, he is interested in me, though I have no idea why, but he's reluctant to move forward for a myriad of very valid reasons. Perhaps this is too complicated and it would be better for the both of us if we kept a working relationship and nothing else.

 _I could leave GEH and find a job somewhere else..._ My mind is scrambling for a solution to this issue. I suddenly recall the letter I received yesterday from one of the publishing houses where I applied for an internship. It's still sitting on the edge of my desk because I am enjoying my time at GEH and probably still would even if Christian never looked twice at me. Assuming it's an acceptance letter, I could work there and Christian and I wouldn't have to worry about inappropriateness in the workplace or whispers behind our backs.

Just as quickly, I dismiss the idea. It's not only because of Christian that I like GEH. It's Ros and the new challenges my job presents every day. Yes, right now, it's mostly digging through contracts and following Ros from meeting to meeting, but as I begin to prove myself worthy of the job, she's increased my responsibilities. I wouldn't want to let her down because I left her high and dry for the sole reason that it's the only way I could be with Christian.

No, there has to be another way...

"Here."

I automatically turn and accept the papers Christian is handing me. Considering I've spent the week combing through similar pages, I recognize the NDA immediately. "I thought I signed one of these when I was hired," I say slowly, looking up at Christian as he retakes his seat.

"You did," he agrees quietly. "Everyone does. But this is different. It's not about GEH; it's more personal than that. Signing it means you won't talk to anybody about whatever goes on between us, whatever I reveal to you as time goes on. It protects both my private and professional reputations and before we talk any further, I need you to sign it."

I blink a few times finding it surreal that what I assumed would be a date has turned into a business deal. Then I think back to earlier this week and the fallout that hit us simply because he offered me a ride home from work and invited me to have dinner with him. His anger the next day over the photos and article was more than evident and for the first time I allow myself to wonder if that anger wasn't because his privacy was violated but because he was caught in public with a recent college graduate who is, at best, average-looking. He says he wants to keep things between us quiet, especially at work. What other explanation could there be?

I ask the question before I can stop myself. "Are you ashamed of me?"

He jerks back as though he's been slapped. "What? Of course not," he says indignantly. "Why would you think that?"

I shrug uneasily, unable to meet his gaze.

Sighing, I feel his eyes on me for a while as I stare at my knotted fingers. I don't even look up when I hear his chair scraping backwards as he climbs to his feet. This is where he calls off the whole thing before it even begins and sends me on my way. For some unknown reason, my eyes begin to sting as he slowly walks around the table and takes the NDA from me, setting it on the table before gently taking my hand to pull me to my feet. I feel like a complete idiot for accepting his invitation here because I know come Monday I'll feel painfully awkward in his presence.

Digging up what little bravery I have left in me, I look up and meet his gaze. It's understanding and apologetic, and I know this is it. What else is there?

To my surprise, he removes the remote control from his pocket with his free hand and turns up the music a little.

"Dance with me," he whispers, his eyes pleading.

I nod, unable to actually speak. He's not kicking me out...

He smiles and pulls me into the middle of the room, placing one of my hands on his shoulder after a brief hesitation, one of his on my hip, and our other hands interlock. I have no idea what music is playing or what sort of dance we're doing. All I know is that for the first time in my life, I feel graceful under his lead and the way we're staring at each other makes me want to do nothing but this for as long as the world allows it. He pulls me tighter against him and my eyes widen fractionally as I feel something hard poking at my belly. Am I responsible for that?

Leaning down, he rests his forehead against mine and I realize that at some point we've stopped dancing and we're just standing in the middle of his apartment holding each other. His eyes dart down to my lips. I might not be experienced, but I know he's thinking about kissing me; he just can't decide if he should or not. I settle the debate for both of us, pushing up on my toes just enough that I can press my lips against his. He gasps at the contact and my breath catches in my throat. When his hands slide up to weave his fingers into my hair, I grip his shoulders, wondering why he tenses, and lose myself for the moment.

He pulls away suddenly with a sharp intake of breath and stares at me from the few feet of distance he's put between us. Our eyes are wide as we try to catch up our breath and I feel strangely deprived of his touch and warmth. "No," he mutters under his breath. I don't think he means to say it out loud. He runs his hands through his hair and closes his eyes, looking furious with himself and I have no idea why. "Ana, I'm sorry. We can't do this..."

"What?" I breathe, confused.

He opens his eyes and I see conflict quickly replaced by resolve and then remorse in them. "This is a bad idea. You don't know what you're getting into with me."

Hurt and confusion quickly give way to anger. "Are you serious?" I ask incredulously. "So tell me what I'm getting into. I'm pretty sure I get a vote in this, too."

He shakes his head. "Trust me, Ana; you're better off without me," he says, bitterness coloring his tone.

"Well, thanks for making my decisions for me," I snap, crossing my arms in an attempt to hide the rejection I feel. "Why did you even invite me over here if this was how it would go?"

"Because I didn't plan on it going like this," he says frustrated. "I thought there might be a way forward for us, something I've never done before because I can't in good conscience bring you into my world. You're too..." He trails off, looking around the apartment desperate to find the right words.

"Too young?" I suggest. "Too naïve? Too plain?"

"No," he says, taken aback. "You're too good for me. You deserve more than what I can offer you."

I swallow hard, really trying not to lose it completely. "You barely know me," I whisper. "And you won't even tell me what you do have to offer, so I don't see how you can draw those conclusions."

"It's what I do, Ana," he says quietly, resignedly. "I read situations and people, and come to educated conclusions based on years of experience."

"Are you referring to business experience or romantic, because if it's the latter, I think you need to reevaluate," I say more snidely than intended.

He's understandably taken aback by my tone, but he doesn't seem to have a response.

I wait for him to say something—anything—and when minutes pass with nothing but tense silence, I huff in frustration, roll my eyes, and start looking around for my jacket and purse. "I should go," I mutter, heading for the breakfast bar.

"Ana..." His remorse is almost palpable and only makes it more difficult to not cry. "Don't go like this."

"Well, I'm not staying," I say bluntly. "Why would I?"

"You've been drinking," he says tensely. "You shouldn't drive."

"Then I'll take a cab," I say, exasperated by the entire evening. How did this go from the two of us being almost too shy to look at each other over the dinner table to a business deal to the best kiss I've ever experienced to... this?

"Taylor can drive you," he says quietly. I glance over my shoulder and he has his BlackBerry in hand and begins to rapidly type out a message.

I want to argue with him on principle, to tell him I really don't want anything rom him right now, but I'm tired and emotionally spent, and all I really want is to go home, fall into bed, and forget this night ever happened. "Fine," I say, resigned.

He seems relieved by my acquiescence and nods gratefully, I think. We simply stand staring at one another for minutes, each of us trying to figure out the other person until we hear Taylor clear his throat softly.

"Miss Steele?" he says quietly, his expression giving nothing away.

I give Christian one last look before following Taylor to the elevator. Before I step in, Christian catches up. "Ana, wait," he says urgently.

With raised eyebrows, I ask him what he wants now.

He opens and closes his mouth a few times, and finally he simply deflates. "I'm sorry," he whispers.

I nod. "Me, too," I whisper back. "Good-bye, Christian."

He winces almost imperceptibly. "Good-bye, Anastasia," he says, looking lost and dejected.

The elevator doors shut and I lean against the wall feeling rejected and miserable, and suddenly wishing I never responded to GEH's offer for employment.


	10. Chapter 10

By Sunday afternoon, I've managed to distract myself enough that I'm not constantly reliving Friday night. It was a relief when I got home and remembered Kate was out for the weekend; I really didn't want to relive everything so soon after it happened. Just as I wanted, I fell into bed and was asleep surprisingly quickly. Yesterday, after Kate texted to remind me know she'd be gone all weekend, I busied myself by cleaning, then rearranging furniture. I tried reading for a while, but it wasn't enough to keep my mind occupied. I'm still trying to figure out what the hell happened on Friday night. I'd half-hoped to receive a message or call from him with some sort of explanation or another apology, but there has been nothing which only solidifies my belief that he really doesn't want me and I've been wasting my time thinking about him since the first time I saw him.

I'm dreading going to work tomorrow, knowing that at some point I'm going to see Christian and I don't know how that's going to go. It will be awkward, surely, but will I be able to maintain a high enough level of professionalism to make it through the day without crying? I did enough of that yesterday and I still can't figure out the last time I cried so much, particularly over a man. He shouldn't have this effect on me; I don't want him to, but it seems it's not something I have any control over. What the hell was I thinking believing there was a possibility that I could be involved with someone like Christian Grey? I ought to stick to men more in my league. José comes to mind, as does Benjamin, and I shiver at the thought.

Or maybe I ought to simply stick to something I'm good with, like books. Sighing, I head into my bedroom and pick up the envelope on my desk, turning it over to read the front. It's from Seattle Independent Publishing and it was the first publishing company I applied for before graduation. I doubt it pays nearly as well as GEH does and I'd probably be somebody's assistant. True, that's what I am right now, but Ros hasn't ever treated me like an assistant—more like equals. The upside is that it won't have Christian Grey and I can move on with my life, forget him, and find somebody else eventually.

His words from Friday come back to haunt me: _"You're too good for me. You deserve more than what I can offer you."_ Surely what he really meant was that he wanted to do whatever possible to not hurt my feelings more than he needed to do. Maybe it was the way we kissed—maybe I did it wrong. What the hell do I know about kissing? My most recent kiss pre-Christian was in high school.

Groaning in frustration, I force myself back on the envelope in my hand. If it's an acceptance letter, I could put in my two weeks' notice tomorrow and assuming Christian doesn't decide it's worth keeping me for those two weeks, I'll do whatever possible to help Ros find a new intern.

I jump and yelp in surprise when I hear a loud thump on the door to the apartment almost like someone was thrown into it or is trying to kick it open.

Eyes wide, I snatch my phone from the desk and cautiously make my way into the living room. It's nearly eleven o'clock at night and I can only think of one person who would be here this late. I stop suddenly when I hear the thumping again, louder this time. With shaking hands, I quickly dial 911. I should probably go back into my bedroom and lock myself in the bathroom, but being the glutton for punishment that I apparently am, I slowly make my way to the door as an operator answers my call. I quickly whisper my name, address, the situation, and my suspicion that my visitor is in violation of a restraining order. I'm told to stay on the line and police are being dispatched.

At the door, the banging has stopped so I feel brave enough to look through the peephole out into the hallway. As far as I can tell, there's no one there. Maybe he heard me on the phone and took off before the police could arrive. I hope so, at least. Just to be safe, I grab the can of pepper spray from my purse and put my finger on the button as I continue to look out into the hallway.

I yell in surprise when somebody runs into view, slamming themselves into the door. "Ana, I know you're there," comes the taunting voice that once haunted my nightmares. "You never thanked me for the flowers, Ana; that's very rude, you know."

"I called the police," I yell through the door. "They'll be here any second and you're in violation of the restraining order."

I hear a mocking laugh. "You didn't really think a piece of fucking paper would keep me from you, did you?" he asks. "You should know better than that, Ana."

"You need to leave, Benjamin."

He groans. "Oh, I do love it when you say my name, Ana," he says longingly. "You can send me away all you want, but I'm always going to come back for you. Why do you think I followed you from Portland? Come on, Ana, you know this is inevitable; just give in."

"Never going to happen," I say firmly.

I wait for a response, but there is only silence and it's becoming disconcerting. At least when he was talking I knew where he was. Minutes go by with no response. I glance through the peephole again and still see nothing. A few minutes pass before someone knocks on the door in a more civilized manner.

"Seattle PD," calls an authoritative voice.

Relaxing immediately, set down the pepper spray and check the peephole once more to be sure before opening my apartment door cautiously.

For the next hour, I give the police a blow-by-blow account of my history with Benjamin Reese and give them a copy of the restraining order. I'm assured that they will do what they can to find him and in the meantime, a marked police cruiser will be stationed outside the building and an officer will do regular checks of the area. It only makes me slightly more comfortable, but at least I won't be alone here tonight.

I should call Kate, but there isn't much point; by the time she can get here, it'll be noon tomorrow. Apparently the Kavanaghs have decided to take an impromptu trip to Canada to see Kate's grandparents. I could call Christian... He would make me feel safer and if Benjamin got the balls to come back here tonight, Christian would tear him apart, of that I have no doubt. But the memory of Friday night is too strong and I want to put off seeing him for as long as possible. So instead of calling someone for company, I turn on every light in the apartment, double and triple check the locks on the door and all the windows, and curl up on the couch to watch some mindless television.

...

When my alarm sounds at six in the morning, I groan in frustration. I finally managed to doze off less than an hour ago and now I have to get up and go to work on no sleep. Though really, I can't remember the last time I got a good night's sleep. The thought of dealing with Christian today after last night is a painful one and I don't think I can do it. As much as I don't want to, I go in search of my phone and look for Ros's number in my contacts. She's told me more than once that she's typically awake on a weekday at five in the morning. Thankfully she answers and I tell her I'm not feeling great and that I'm really sorry, but I can't work today. I would get absolutely nothing done and would be a hindrance more than actually productive.

"Are you sure you're all right?" she asks in concern.

"Yeah, I'll be fine by tomorrow," I assure her. "I'm really sorry, Ros."

"No, it's fine. I think I can survive one day without you," she teases. "Get some rest, Ana. If you need anything, let me know."

Clearly she doesn't believe I'm actually sick, but something is off enough about me that she knows I'm not just playing hooky. As I make myself some breakfast, I wonder vaguely what Christian will think when he finds out I'm not coming into work today. I shake my head, really not wanting to focus on that right now. Instead, I make a plan of what to do when Benjamin comes back. He's already said the restraining order doesn't mean anything to him and probably the only reason he left last night was because he wanted to stay out of jail to get more opportunity to torment me.

I remember Ray and his insistence that I learn to defend myself. Since I was a teenager I've been able to bring down a man twice my size by targeting pressure points, not to mention I can shoot straighter than most other women my age. Ray would probably help me purchase a gun for self-defense, but I really don't want to involve him in this. He would be in Seattle in an instant and would probably drag me back to Montesano by my hair.

When Kate and I moved into this apartment, one of the perks was the security. You need a key for the front door of the building, but tenants don't blink twice about letting in someone who says they're visiting a friend in the building. Our front door has a deadlock that we keep locked whether we're at home or not. The windows have decent locks as well and aside from the other night when I found the window open in my bedroom, I haven't been concerned about them.

Frowning, I think harder on that and all the other odd things that have gone on in the last couple of weeks—feeling like I'm not alone; seeing a shadow out on the street across from the apartment; waking in the middle of the night and thinking there was somebody standing at the end of the bed. All the things around the apartment that have been moved around or misplaced...

"Fuck," I murmur. He's been in the apartment and probably more than once. Suddenly finding Kate's keys in the lock when we came home from work makes more sense. He probably stole her keys and made copies.

Throughout the day, I keep busy by looking up locksmiths in Seattle as well as looking into security systems for the apartment. I doubt Kate will complain much, especially when she hears what I suspect has been happening. Around dinnertime, I decide to order a pizza for delivery because I just can't be bothered to cook. So twenty minutes later when there is a knock on the door, I don't hesitate to haul myself of the couch and over to the front door, grabbing the cash I pulled out to pay for dinner. Reflexively, I glance through the peephole and promptly shove myself away from the door.

"Seriously?" I mutter under my breath, wondering what I'm supposed to do now.

There's another soft knock on my door and I know he isn't going to go away. Resignedly, I unlock the door and pull it open to face Christian Grey standing in the hallway outside my apartment. He looks as good as he did on Friday night, though it looks like he hasn't slept all weekend either. His hair is in its usual state of messiness, his suit jacket is gone, his tie loosened, and the first two buttons of his shirt are unbuttoned. What really makes an impression, though, are the dark rings under his eyes.

"Hi," he says quietly, looking me up and down.

I'm still in my pajamas, though I did throw a sweatshirt over my tank top. "Hi," I reply. "What are you doing here?"

He sighs, running his fingers through his hair. "You didn't come in to work today," he says.

"No, I didn't."

"Why not?" His clipped, slightly irritated tone raises my hackles.

"Because I'm not feeling well," I tell him shortly. "Do you visit every employee who calls out sick?"

He raises an eyebrow at my tone. "I can honestly say this is the first time," he says, smiling tentatively. I don't return it. "I thought it might have been because of Friday night."

Of course he did. "Well, it wasn't," I say, crossing my arms. "I had some personal issues I needed to deal with today."

He frowns. "Are you okay?" he asks. "You look tired."

"Thank you," I say sarcastically. "Every woman loves to hear that." His jaw tenses in annoyance. "And I'm fine. It's nothing you need to worry about."

"Are you sure?" he asks. "Because Ros seemed worried about you. She said you were a little off on Friday."

"Maybe that was because I thought I was about to have dinner with a man I really wanted to get to know better," I say acidly. "And considering what actually happened, I'm so glad I got so worked up."

He's glaring at me now. "Do you have to be so combative?" he asks. "I'm here because I was concerned about you and needed to know you're okay."

I begin to reply, but a young man carrying a pizza approaches the apartment. Christian moves out of the way and I force a tight smile, handing the money over in exchange for the pizza. "Keep the change," I mutter.

He thanks me, sends a suspicious glance at Christian, and goes on his way.

Christian watches me expectantly and while I'm tempted to simply ask him to leave, I've been alone all weekend and could use the company particularly after last night.

"Did you want to come in?" I ask him.

"Is that okay?" he asks quietly.

I nod and hold the door open for him, closing and locking it the moment he's inside. Before it's all the way shut, I notice a few scuff marks and a dent in the wood. "Are you hungry?" I ask, forgoing the civility of getting a plate and taking the box straight to the couch.

"No thank you, Anastasia," he replies softly, following me and looking around the apartment in interest. He looks like a caged animal here, completely out of his habitat of expensive furnishings. The couch I'm sitting on cost $50 at a garage sale Kate and I went to in our junior year of college. He lowers himself cautiously into an armchair beside me and leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

After taking a couple bites of the pizza I wanted not more than an hour ago, I drop it back in the box. "I'm sorry," I say quietly, finally meeting his gaze.

He looks surprised. "For what?" he asks.

"For being combative," I elaborate. "If you're really just here because you're concerned, you don't deserve the attitude. I didn't sleep well last night; I'm sorry."

He frowns concernedly. "Why didn't you sleep?" he says almost chidingly.

I debate telling him, but I shake my head. "It's a long story."

Sighing, he leans back in the chair, studying me closely. "I was concerned for you—I still am, because it's clear that something is wrong. But I was hoping to see you today so I could talk to you about Friday night. Please let me explain, Ana."

I don't know if it's the exhaustion or if I'm just tired of over thinking everything, but I nod. "Sure, explain," I say quietly.

Again, he looks surprised, probably because he expected me to tell him I don't want to talk about Friday. The sigh he emits now is one of slight relief. "I meant everything I said to you, Ana. I can't stop thinking about you and I do want to find some way we can get to know each other without sacrificing everything else in our lives. But I also believe you deserve someone better than me—someone good. And I'm not that person."

"Why do you say that?" I ask suddenly. "True, we might not know each other well, but I know enough that I know you're a good person. Practically everyone who works for you thinks so and it's not just because you're rich and attractive. I heard you paid for the cancer treatment of a security guard's son. If you weren't a good person, you wouldn't have done that. You've also been kind to me even though I'm just an intern. Hell, before we even knew who the other person was, you got me off the hook for a car accident that was absolutely my fault. You involved me in the Taiwan thing even though I'd only been with the company for a week. Christian, you're a good person whether you see it or not."

He shakes his head in disagreement, but doesn't argue. "It's more than that, Ana," he says. "I told you that my personal life is unconventional; that's true. It's not an exaggeration. There are things about me that would have you running the moment I said the words. Look, I have spent my life controlling every detail of my life. I don't have close friends. I don't share the more extreme aspects of my life with my family because they would run right along with you. I have never mixed business with pleasure. Not until recently."

My eyes widen and my curiosity piques. "What changed?" I ask even though I think I know the answer.

He smiles slightly. "Well," he begins slowly, leaning forward again. I think he might reach for my hand, but he hesitates. "One morning on my way to work, my car was rear-ended by a lovely brunette woman with captivating blue eyes because she was nervous about starting her new job with my company."

I was right. My jaw drops open anyway.

"From day one, I tried to stay away from you, but then I learned you were working with Ros and I knew it wasn't going to happen. I knew immediately you were brilliant even if you didn't see it yourself. I wanted to see how well you would do in my company; that's why I invited you along to Taiwan. Every day since then, you've impressed me more than most people I've worked with for years. The first time we had dinner together when I was giving you a ride home, I had to fight the urge to bring you back to my apartment. However inappropriate it was, I wanted you, Ana. I wanted you more than anything. And I still do. And I think you want me, too. I may not deserve it, but I want to explore the possibility that I can have something different in my life—something real, something that actually means something. I'll understand if you say no. All weekend, I've been weighing this decision and there seem to be just as many cons as there are pros. I am willing to take the chance if you are."

I have no idea what to say to that so I say the first thing that falls out of my mouth. "Are you ever going to tell me why you think you're undeserving or exactly what it is that you think will make me run from you?"

"Yes," he says immediately. "But it's something I need to show you. Only telling you won't help matters."

I think I could handle that. But if he's going to be honest with me, I should return the favor. "Before I say yes or no to whatever it is we're talking about, there is something you should know about me," I say quietly, staring down at my fingers.

He leans forward, taking my hands into his. "What?" he asks gently. "You can tell me anything."

I believe him. I only hope that when it's his turn I can follow through on the same promise. "I have a stalker, Christian."

He stares at me for a minute as though he doesn't comprehend my words. "You have a— _what?_ " he asks incredulously.

I nod seriously. "A stalker. He's been around for about two years now and I can't seem to shake him," I say quietly.

"Who is he?" Christian demands.

The protectiveness in his tone almost makes me smile. "His name is Benjamin Reese," I answer. "He went to school with Kate and me, and I had a few classes with him. Around junior year, he asked me out. We went on two dates, mostly because I wasn't sure how to tell him after the first that I wasn't really interested in him. He seemed nice enough, but we didn't have anything in common. At first, he seemed to take it well enough. A few weeks later, I started noticing that he happened to be everywhere I was. I didn't think much of it to begin with until he followed me out one night when I was having dinner with my friend José—we're really just friends, but Benjamin believed otherwise. Anyway, José and I were at a restaurant and when we left, someone had keyed a word into the passenger side door of his brand-new car."

"What word?" he asks tightly.

For the first time, I see that he's getting angry, though I'm fairly certain it's got nothing to do with me and everything to do with Benjamin. "Slut," I say quietly. I can hear Christian grinding his teeth together. "I didn't know for sure it was Benjamin, but we suspected it. One night I came home from work and Kate was out on a date or something. The apartment door was locked and there was no indication that anything was wrong before I went inside, but when I did, he was in my bedroom on my bed, waiting for me to get home. He assumed I'd be happy to find him there. I freaked out. Luckily a neighbor had dropped by to bring a package delivered for us that day so when he heard me yelling, he came inside and chased Benjamin out while I called the police. I took a restraining order out on him and he abided by it for the most part. He still showed up in places where I happened to be, but he was maintaining the distance he was ordered to maintain and never contacted me directly, so he was never in violation. Just after senior year began, he essentially disappeared and I haven't heard from him until a few weeks ago."

"What happened a few weeks ago?" Christian asks quietly, clearly barely maintaining his calm demeanor.

"When Kate and I moved to Seattle, we didn't advertise it because we didn't want him finding us. But the day we left on the Taiwan trip, Ros had sent me home to pack a bag and when I got back to GEH, I saw him across the street. Since then, little things have happened. I'd think I was seeing him when I'm out or wake up in the middle of the night feeling like I was being watched. Kate's keys went missing one day last week and when we got home, they were stuck in the door lock. On Friday, I got a flower delivery at work." I reach over to my purse to pull the card that came along with aforementioned flowers and reluctantly hand it to Christian. He reads it several times, his jaw tightening even more the longer he holds the card.

"Well, that explains the flowers in your trash can," he says dully. "I thought maybe they came from the intern who spent an entire meeting staring at you last week." Clearly he disapproves of such things, but I suspect it's only because he wasn't the one doing the staring.

I raise an amused eyebrow at him, but then I recall last night's events. "Last night..."

Christian's eyes dart to the door. "Was he here?" he asks tightly.

I nod.

"Are you all right?"

"A little freaked out," I admit. "But yes."

"He tried to bust down your door," he says quietly.

I nod again. "I called the police. They hung around last night to keep an eye on things."

"You need better security in this apartment," he says firmly. "I can arrange for a new door and windows with better locks to be installed. It probably wouldn't hurt to have a security system installed with alarms that alert the police if something happens."

"I'm in the process of all of that," I tell him, hoping to calm him down.

"Let me do it for you," he insists, taking my hands again. "Even if I leave here with you telling me you want nothing to do with me, I won't rest unless I know you're safe."

All of a sudden, I feel overwhelmed by everything and more exhausted than I have ever been in my life. I don't want to argue. At some point later on I can insist on paying for whatever arrangements he makes. "Okay," I say quietly. "Thank you."

Again, he looks shocked that I'm agreeing so easily. "I thought there would be a fight on that," he admits with a hint of amusement.

"I'm sure there will be once I've gotten some sleep," I tell him.

"Would I be pressing my luck if I asked about the other thing we were discussing?" he asks tentatively. There's so much hope in his expression despite the fact that he's trying to hide it that I know I won't be able to fight this any easier than I did the security thing.

"I should say yes," I grumble, leaning back into the couch, "but truthfully, I feel the same way about you. I do like you. I want to see if we can do this, too. I'm just not sure this is the best time."

He nods slowly, standing and walking around the coffee table to sit beside me on the couch. A second later, he puts an arm around my shoulders, pulling me to lean against him. With his free hand, he holds one of mine. I think it's so I won't touch him. "Then I'm willing to wait," he says, belying his actions.

"Is that so?" I ask tartly, raising an eyebrow at him.

He smirks at me. "It is, but I have to admit that I've spent all weekend thinking about our dance together and then that kiss we shared, and I've been dying to touch you since."

I have, too, but I'm not particularly ready for that conversation. Carefully, I rest my head against his shoulder and though he tenses, he doesn't protest and we both relax. As we do, a sudden feeling almost like coming home hits me and while I know I should probably be slightly concerned by how strongly I feel it, I'm too tired to deal with it right now.


	11. Chapter 11

I open my eyes, finding myself in bed and alone. Did I just dream Christian being here? I wouldn't be surprised if I had; that's about my luck these days. I'm shocked when I glance at my alarm clock and find it's six in the morning and I've apparently slept all night even though I don't remember actually going to sleep or even coming to bed.

There's a knock on my bedroom door and I pull the blankets up around me on instinct as the door opens. I relax when I see that it's Kate.

"Morning, sunshine," she says, sitting down beside me and passing me a cup of tea. "Sleep well?"

Immediately I realize something is off about her tone so I proceed cautiously. "I did, actually," I say. "When did you get home?"

"Around midnight," she answers, her eyes shining in what I think might be humor. This can't be good. "It was weird. When I came home, I expected to find just you fast asleep, but instead, Christian Grey was sitting on our couch."

I'm only slightly relieved to learn yesterday evening wasn't a dream. Though that also means I told Christian all about Benjamin and now that I've caught up on my sleep, I'm not sure that was the best idea. "Was he?" I try for nonchalance.

"Yep," Kate answers, biting her lips against a grin. "So does that mean your date went well on Friday?"

I huff a laugh. "Actually, it was a disaster," I tell her, blowing gently on my tea before taking a sip. Kate frowns so suddenly I almost snort my drink in laughter. "I called out of work yesterday and he came to see if I was all right."

She raises an eyebrow. "Pretty special treatment after a date disaster," she says skeptically. "Were you okay?"

"Not really. Benjamin was here Sunday night."

"What!" Kate shoots up to her feet so fast that the coffee cup she's holding spills all over the floor and she hisses in pain over her burning feet. "Shit..." Quickly she takes off her socks and throws them aside carelessly before turning her attention back on me. "What do you mean, he was here?"

I give her a summary of events and she's immediately pissed off.

"Why the fuck didn't you call me, Ana?" she demands. "I would have come home!"

"I wasn't in the mood for the third degree and I knew that if you came home, you'd want to talk to me about Christian to distract me from Benjamin. I wasn't ready for that," I say simply. It sounds ridiculous now and the expression on Kate's face says she agrees. "The police came and he bolted. There was an officer outside all night and I didn't sleep, hence why I didn't go to work yesterday."

"Okay," she says slowly. "So why was Grey here all night?"

I sigh. "He wanted to talk," I say, shrugging. "So we did. I must have fallen asleep. Was I on the couch when you came home?"

She shakes her head. "Nope. Apparently Grey tucked you in and hung around. I don't think he was expecting me back, but since I was here, he took off. It was actually sort of sweet. Before he left he came in to check on you."

I bite my lip against a smile. That really is sweet. "So tonight we need to discuss making the apartment more secure. I'm sure you saw the door..." Kate nods grimly. "Well, that was Benjamin's doing. Christian said something about making arrangements, but I'm not sure how serious he was."

"Only going on last night, I'd say pretty damn serious," Kate says. "Are you going into work this morning?"

"I should," I answer, glancing at the clock again. "If I don't, my boss might show up at the door again."

Kate smirks. "Later you're going to tell me exactly what happened on this date," she threatens.

* * *

The moment I walk into my office, I locate a large vase of beautifully fragrant flowers sitting on my desk and the card rests on the desk against it. Nervously, I approach as though it's a bomb and wonder if I should just throw it all out now without reading it or not. I resolve to tell whoever keeps bringing the flowers up here to stop delivering to me as I drop into my chair and grab the card with my name written in neat cursive that is vaguely familiar.

With a furrowed brow, I remove the card from the envelope and immediately smile at the message written in the same cursive writing as my name:

 _Because receiving flowers_

 _shouldn't be a terrifying_

 _experience._

 _-C_

I bite my lip against a ridiculous grin and quickly stash the card in my purse. The one Benjamin sent on Friday isn't here and I recall handing it to Christian; I wonder if he gave it back, not that it really matters.

"I thought that might help wash away some unpleasant memories."

I spin around on my chair and find Christian leaning against the open door of my office. "It certainly does," I confirm, biting my lip against a grin.

His eyes lock on my mouth and darken and I let go of my lip. "I realize we didn't really discuss it last night—you fell asleep before we could"—he tilts his head down and looks at me sternly, though his lips are twitching. "But I made arrangements to have a new door and windows installed in your apartment as well as having it fitted for a security alarm. And before you get indignant, I can cancel the arrangements if you'd prefer to do this on your own."

I almost want to tell him to cancel on principle. "That's fine," I say cautiously. "And I appreciate it, but Kate and I will pay for it."

He presses his lips together and I think he wants to tell me he'll pay for it, but he keeps quiet about it. "If you so wish," he says diplomatically. I try not to let my amusement show as I register the restraint it seems to be taking to not to insist.

"Normally I would probably say no," I explain, hoping he'll understand whatever point I'm making. "But considering recent events, I could probably use all the help I can get."

His expression softens. "Just do one thing for me," he requests softly. "If you see him again, if you even suspect that he's around, I want you to call me. A restraining order is only a piece of paper; if the one being restrained isn't afraid of being arrested, it will do no good. I'm tempted to assign security to you, but I'm not sure that will be received very well."

I'm impressed that he can read my expression so well.

"But I won't forgive myself if something happens to you when I could have helped. I'll also get Taylor's cell phone number for you in case I'm not available should you need help."

I nod my acceptance of his plan. "I will call if anything happens," I assure him.

Sighing, he smiles in relief. "Thank you. Unfortunately, I've got a day full of tedious meetings that I need to begin. I want to see you again soon, maybe try dinner at my place again, but I'm otherwise engaged this evening. How's tomorrow for you?"

I'm taken aback by his sudden business-like tone. "Um, tomorrow is fine," I answer.

"Tomorrow evening, then. If you need anything in the meantime, let Andrea know and she will know how to contact me."

It seems neither of us is eager for him to leave if his lingering is any indication. "Oh, thank you, by the way, for staying last night. You made quite the impression on my roommate."

He smiles wryly. "I noticed," he says dryly. "And you're welcome. I just didn't want to leave you alone after Sunday night."

"Christian, what are you doing here?"

We're both startled by Ros's voice as she walks through the door connecting our offices. Judging by her surprise, she's only just gotten in and wasn't privy to our conversation. Christian, for one, looks relieved, and I frown again, still wondering if it's because of me that he wants to keep things quiet.

"Just admiring Miss Steele's flowers," Christian answers easily, gesturing at the vase on my desk and giving Ros a sphinx-like smile.

"Ah," Ros says, her eyebrows high with skepticism as she looks between us. "Ana, I hope you're feeling better today." I start to tell her that yes I am, but she continues speaking before I can. "I'll be in meetings all morning with Mr. Grey. While I'm there, I need you to run across town and pick up a contract for the solar power company."

Christian bristles slightly. "It can't be messengered over?" he asks, frowning. I think it might be from the idea of sending me across town.

"Considering the contract signing is long overdue and I really don't trust handing it over to a third-party, no, it can't," Ros says plainly.

"I don't mind," I say to both of them. "I could probably use the fresh air, anyway." Yes, fresh air and distance from Christian until I figure out what the hell is going on between us is exactly what I need. Vaguely, I recall how long it's been since I've seen my mother and wonder if a trip to Georgia might be in order. There is a three-day weekend coming up soon, so it might be the perfect opportunity...

"See," Ros says, smiling charmingly. "She doesn't mind. Christian, I'll see you in the boardroom."

The moment she's gone, Christian rolls his eyes and turns his gaze back to me. "Be careful, please," he begs softly. "And take one of the company cars; they're all outfitted with GPS so they can be tracked if anything should happen to you."

Deciding it's easier to agree than to argue, I nod. "I will," I say. "Enjoy your meetings."

The look he shoots me suggests that's an impossible request, but he winks and grins at me before following Ros.

My mind is whirring as I stare at the flowers Christian sent to me. On Friday night, he told me we couldn't do whatever it was we were doing and last night he shows up at my apartment, hanging around for hours even after I'd fallen asleep on him. Not to mention his insistence of taking care of upgrading my apartment's security because of my stalker. It probably would have been easier for him to just walk away; being linked to an intern is one thing, but taking on an intern who has a psychopath following her around should be a step too far for a man in his position. So what does it mean that he's not walking away? What do I even want it to mean?

It's too early for a migraine so I grab my purse and jacket, and head to the security office to check out one of the company cars. I find Taylor talking to a group of men I recognize as building security, but he breaks away almost immediately when she spots me.

"Miss Steele," he greets me, smiling slightly. "What can I do for you?"

"Um, I'm supposed to get a company car to go pick up a contract," I explain. "I'm not really sure how it works."

His smile widens kindly. "Of course," he says dutifully. "Give me one second and I'll walk you to the garage."

With a set of keys in hand, Taylor joins me, guiding me to the elevators. "This is for you," he says, handing me a card. "Mr. Grey brought me up to speed on your current situation. I hope you don't mind."

I probably should, but I don't.

"My cell number is on there," he says as I take the card from him. "If anything happens, please don't hesitate to call."

Assuring him I'll call if I need to, I follow him into the parking garage to an area containing five vehicles, all Audis— two SUVs, a sports car, and two hatchbacks. Taylor heads to a silver hatchback. He explains the features of the car that I may need while driving it and opens the door for me.

"All the cars are serviced regularly so there shouldn't be any difficulties, but if there are, use the car phone to connect to GEH and someone will come help out," he says. "The GPS on the dash is preprogrammed with your destination—I checked with Mr. Grey before coming down here—so all you need to do is follow the directions." His lips twitch. "And I'm sure Mr. Grey would prefer it if it came back unmarked."

My mouth drops indignantly and I laugh, amusing Taylor further. "I assure you, that accident was the first one I've ever had," I say huffily.

"Yes, Miss Steele," he says, definitely laughing at me now. "Drive safely, ma'am."

Though I spent the whole time looking over my shoulder and half-expecting to see Benjamin around every corner, my errand running was uneventful and I pull back into the GEH parking garage without putting even a scratch in the car. I smirk to myself at Taylor's earlier comments and head towards the elevators, managing to slip inside one before the doors closed. The button to the twentieth floor is already lit, so I step back and lean against the wall, shooting a smile to the only other person in the elevator—a tall blonde woman dressed in a fitted black dress and matching heels. She looks vaguely familiar and as her eyes dart towards me, I remember where I've seen her before. It was outside Christian's office right after he asked me out. She'd been waiting for him and Andrea buzzed to announce her arrival while we were talking. I recall the looks she gave Christian and me as he walked me to the elevator.

"Miss Steele, isn't it?" she says with interest.

"Yes," I say quietly, wondering why she makes me feel... nervous is the most polite word I can come up with. I decide to play polite.

Red lips part in a smile revealing white even teeth. "Well, aren't you a surprise," she says mostly to herself.

"I'm sorry?" I ask, raising an eyebrow.

She shakes her head and her blonde bob stays exactly in place. "Nothing," she says dismissively as though she's enjoying a private joke.

The elevator reaches the twentieth floor and I'm grateful as the doors slide open. As though drawn by a magnet, my gaze slides around until I find Christian leading a group of people out of the boardroom. For a second, I'm frozen in place as I watch him doing what he does best—taking control and bringing lesser mortals to heel. Something about that thought bothers me, but I ignore it, because he's in full swing and it's a hell of a show. A second later, his gray eyes find me and a slow, sexy smile appears on his lips only to disappear immediately as the woman from the elevator steps out behind me. Christian swallows hard, his eyes darting between us, and excuses himself from the group.

I start to smile and say hello to him, but he bypasses me completely, making a beeline to the other woman.

"Elena, what are you doing here?" he asks in a low voice. "I thought we were meeting this evening."

My heart drops into my stomach. She is the reason he isn't free tonight and why I won't get to see him again until tomorrow. And he just blew me off completely. What the hell?

Rather than stay and hear Elena's response, I turn on my heel and make my way to Ros's office to drop off the contract she wanted.

"Did they give you any trouble?" she asks.

"No, not at all," I answer, my tone more subdued than I intended. "Is there anything else you need?"

"Actually, I need you with me in the next meeting. Christian and I are meeting with the management team who is taking over at the Taiwan shipyard and they have questions regarding some of the suggestions you came up with while we were there," she says, lips twitching. "I realize I've mostly been using you as an assistant and thought you might enjoy seeing the results from your first big success here at GEH."

My eyebrows shoot higher with every word. "Big success?" I ask uncertainly. "I'm not sure..."

Ros holds up a hand to stop me. "Whether you realized it or not, it was, Ana. Christian is still talking about it and I don't remember the last time he bothered to learn an intern's name let alone raved about them."

I avert my eyes guiltily, knowing his interest is with more than just a few ideas I had weeks ago.

Ros watches me knowingly. "Anyway, we should get in there. The boss doesn't like being kept waiting..."

I roll my eyes inwardly, having hoped that she would give me something to do that would mean not having to deal with Christian anymore today. Everything is so up and down and I just don't know where I fall. It doesn't help matters that he's still talking to Elena, though they have moved into a corner, probably to avoid being overheard.

"He doesn't like being kept waiting," Ros begins, "but he doesn't mind making the rest of us wait."

I smile slightly at her tone which suggests she doesn't like Elena. "Who is she?" I ask, trying to sound casual as we enter the boardroom. Right now it's empty, but I see the elevator doors open and a group of men stepping off.

Ros darts her eyes towards me briefly. "A friend of Christian's mother's," she says shortly. "They're actually in business together." She meets my gaze sternly. "But I did not tell you that."

I smile my agreement and promise that I'll keep my mouth shut. A couple minutes later, Christian leads the group of men into the room and gestures for them to take a seat. His eyes move around the table and find me sitting beside Ros. It almost looks like he wants to apologize about something, but he shakes himself, bringing him back to the moment.

The meeting lasts nearly an hour and every time I'm asked a question, though I don't look back, I feel Christian's eyes locked on me. Somehow I manage to get through the meeting without stuttering or losing my train of thought despite how badly I wanted to return Christian's gaze.

After that meeting, though I get the impression he wants to speak with me, Ros leads me back to her office to give me a list of things she needs before her last meeting of the day which is a conference call. Besides, I know he won't draw any attention to us at work; he made that perfectly clear multiple times. Maybe he was right on Friday night and anything between us would be far too complicated. As it is, I spend the rest of the day only half focused on my job and the rest on the flowers and his visit to my apartment last night.

Thankfully, I'm able to leave work without running into Christian again. I think a few glasses of wine and bringing Kate up to speed is exactly what I need right now.

* * *

"Are you sure he's not bi-polar or something?" Kate asks seriously. "Or maybe suffering from multiple personality disorder?"

"No, I don't think so," I answer just as seriously as I curl up in the corner of the couch. "I think he's just..." I shrug. "Uncertain. And rightly so—when has a successful CEO dating an intern just out of college ever worked out well?"

Kate drops down beside me. "That's how my parents met, you know," she says. "I mean, Dad wasn't a CEO, but he was pushing his way to the top when he met my mom. She came in as an intern. Look at them now."

I roll my eyes. "A one in a thousand result," I argue. "Every other story you hear is some scandal. You know, I was thinking about it yesterday, and maybe my best bet is to take a publishing internship. I got a letter from one of the places where I applied and I was accepted into the program. What the hell made me think I could make it in a huge corporation like GEH anyway?"

Kate frowns at me, but doesn't get the opportunity to reply due to the knock of the door. For a second, my heart races at the thought that it might be Christian; then I remember he's meeting with Elena tonight. Rolling my eyes, I get off the couch and set down my wine glass. Kate follows me and I know it's in case Benjamin is this evening's visitor. One look through the peephole shows it's not and I open the door before my confusion completely registers.

In the hallway stands a tall man with blond hair, blue eyes, and a huge white smile who wouldn't seem out of place among surfers. He's wearing a light blue t-shirt and in the corner it reads _Grey Construction,_ and I suddenly remember Christian telling me earlier that he'd arranged to send somebody to look at our door and windows and see about installing a security system.

"You must be Anastasia," he says brightly.

"Um," I respond, a little overwhelmed between the attractiveness of the man I'm looking at and the wine I've had today. He's got nothing on Christian, but I can practically hear Kate's jaw drop to the floor behind me. "Yes, I suppose I am."

"Elliot Grey," he says, holding out a hand. "Christian's brother. He asked me to come by."

This is news. I wonder vaguely if Christian sent his brother assuming I'd be more comfortable with someone he clearly trusts rather than a stranger. He's not wrong... "Right, come in, please." I step back and allow Elliot to enter the apartment. When the door is closed, I turn around and nearly start laughing at the sight of Kate and Elliot staring at one another like they're each other's next meal. Clearing my throat, I consider giving them some time alone, but that expression on Kate's face tends to mean that while I may not see her or the guy she's staring at all night, I'll sure as hell hear them. And I'm not particularly in the mood for that.

They both snap out of their dazes and look at me. Neither looks particularly apologetic for ignoring me. Elliot beams at me again. "So Christian didn't really say what the issue is. Aside from the crack in the door, it looks fine..." he says, walking towards the living room windows to examine them.

"Ana's having an issue with a crazy ex," Kate says before I can open my mouth, ignoring my glare. "He tried to break down the door the other night and Ana thinks he might have gotten into the apartment through the windows."

Elliot's eyes widen in concern. "Oh," he says surprised and turns to look at me appraisingly. "Well, I can see why Christian is so worried." He turns away to look at the windows again.

Kate looks at me pointedly. "His own brother says he's concerned," she whispers. "That has to count for something."

I roll my eyes. "So what can be done?" I ask Elliot. "Doors and windows can be broken..."

"True," Elliot says slightly, spinning around to look at us. "But if you have steel plates built into the wood of a door and unbreakable glass in your windows, it's a hell of a lot easier to prevent a break-in. Christian also mentioned getting a security system installed. My company doesn't deal with that directly, but we deal with a very reputable company here in Seattle who provides top notch services. I use them for security at my apartment."

"And that's an apartment you share with... your girlfriend?" Kate asks.

I roll my eyes again. Seriously, Kate?

Elliot turns his gaze back on her, grinning. "No, no girlfriend," he confirms, his eyes traveling from hers down to her feet and back up again slowly.

"Okay, can we stop flirting for five minutes?" I ask irritably. Kate looks at me in shock; Elliot looks amused. I flush deeply. "Sorry."

"No problem," Elliot says, chuckling. "Anyway, the security company has systems that monitor the windows and doors in your apartment. They can install cameras that activate only when the alarm is set off. The company checks the feed and if it looks like trouble, the police are alerted. If not, they call the customer and ask them to reset the system. Combined with new windows and a new door, nobody is getting in here that you haven't invited." Unlike a moment ago, his tone is professional and comforting. "If you want to go ahead with the installs, I can take measurements today and be back tomorrow to get everything fitted. If you both work, I can even hang around for the alarm company."

I'm taken aback by the offer. "Oh, um," I say, still processing all the information he's given us.

"Tomorrow is perfect," Kate says, shooting me a _shut up now_ look. And since the apartment is technically in her name, I can't argue too much.

Elliot looks at her and gives her the same slow sexy smile that his brother gave me only a few hours ago. It looks better coming from Christian. "Cool. Well, I'll get the measurements and get out of your hair ladies." He hesitates for a moment, glancing at me. "How do you know Christian again?"

Suddenly I think Christian played down whatever relationship we have. Probably because he didn't want his brother to know we're anything significant. "Oh, I'm Ros's intern," I say.

Kate raises an eyebrow at me, but doesn't correct me. Besides it's the truth.

Elliot's eyebrows shoot up. "Oh. Interesting," he says, giving me a crooked smile. "I'll get to work now."

While Elliot measures the windows in the apartment, Kate grabs me by my arm and drags me into the kitchen. "This is your chance to figure out what the hell is going on with Christian," she hisses at me. "Why aren't you grilling him?"

"You're the trained interrogator... I mean, reporter," I correct myself. She narrows her eyes at me. "Besides, I don't want a secondhand account about Christian. I can make my mind up for myself."

Kate sighs. "Well, I tried," she says sadly. Immediately, though, she perks up again. "So if you're not going to hook up with one of the Grey brothers, I don't see why I can't."

With that she practically skips back into the living room to ask Elliot if he wants a glass of iced tea or any assistance. I leave them to flirt their way through the apartment knowing it will only be a matter of time before I wake up in the morning to find Elliot at the breakfast table, and start a lasagna for dinner.

Elliot finishes his measurements and information gathering as I'm putting the lasagna in the oven and appears at the kitchen entrance with Kate on his heels. I'm waiting for Kate to tell me she invited him to stay for dinner when he announces he's finished and will be back tomorrow. I'll be at work, but Kate graciously volunteers to be here when he arrives.

"Have you no shame?" I ask when Kate finally shuts the door. She's been staring after Elliot since he walked out the door.

She smiles charmingly. "Nope," she says happily. "So while you were in here sulking, I talked to Elliot about Christian. Are you sure you don't want to hear what he had to say?"

I turn away, hoping to avoid the temptation to say yes. Unfortunately, as my best friend, Kate knows all my avoidance techniques and she won't back down until I give in. "Fine," I say grudgingly, turning to lean against the counter with my arms crossed. "What did he say?"

"Well, not a lot," she says regretfully. I glare at her. "He did say he's never seen Christian worried about anyone's home security, even people he works with. He provides the resources through his company, but never gets personally involved. So when Christian called him and said he wanted Elliot's company to check out our apartment, Elliot normally would have sent someone else, but of course he had to come check out the girl his brother seems so into."

I huff a laugh. "Into me? He totally blew me off this afternoon, Kate, and didn't talk to me the rest of the day," I complain. "How is that into me?"

"According to Elliot, he's never shown interest in a girl before—ever," Kate says, not nearly as put off as I'd prefer her to be. "If that's the case, maybe he just doesn't know how to talk to women or how to show interest."

"I seriously doubt that," I mutter. "Have you seen the guy? There is no way he's avoided women his entire life..."

Kate sighs. "Look, I'm just saying that you shouldn't write him off. If Elliot was telling the truth, you're in the same boat, Ana. Hell, you're almost twenty-two and still a virgin. Maybe he is, too."

Somehow I manage not to laugh at the very thought and even Kate's lips twitch. "Okay, moving on... Let's talk about you and Elliot."

The only way to distract Kate from my love life, or lack thereof, is to ask her about hers. The downside is that she won't shut up about it all night and the wine will only make it worse.

* * *

 **A/N:** As always thanks to everyone who has read and reviewed so far. More story coming probably next week sometime!


	12. Chapter 12

"Good morning, Ana."

I look away from the text message Kate just sent me about whether she should pretend she's just gotten out of the shower when Elliot arrives or act like his presence in our home doesn't matter at all. The only other person in the elevator with me is Christian Grey and I suddenly wonder why I decided to come to work early.

"Good morning, Mr. Grey," I respond as professionally as I can manage while in close quarters with the man who starred in some very interesting dreams last night.

He frowns at my tone. "Is everything all right?" he asks suspiciously. "I was hoping to speak to you yesterday, but you were already gone."

"I'm fine," I lie. I've never been more confused in my life. "I had to get home in time to meet your brother."

He cracks a smile that immediately relaxes me. "Yeah, I'm sorry about that. I didn't actually expect him to show up himself; I assumed he'd send one of his employees."

"It's not a problem," I say, this time honestly. "He was nice. And my roommate definitely agreed."

Rolling his eyes, Christian sips from the travel mug of coffee in his hand. "I heard about that, too," he says dryly. "Did Elliot actually do what he went to your apartment to do?"

"Yes. He's coming back today to install the windows and door, and to supervise the security alarm installation. Thank you again for arranging all of that," I say as we reach the twentieth floor.

"You're most welcome," he says quietly. I can feel his gaze on me as he gestures for me to exit the elevator first. This early, we're the only ones here. I had hoped to spend the time double checking and finishing up the tasks Ros asked me to do yesterday. I was so eager to get out of the building to avoid facing Christian that it's probably necessary. "Would you like to have breakfast with me?" Christian asks. "I was supposed to have a breakfast meeting, but the company owner I was meeting with backed out last minute." I don't miss how irritated he sounds.

It's tempting, but the last time we ate together, I was less confused than I am now and it turned out to be a disaster. I'm not sure I can experience that again and still function at work. But at some point, I need to be able to face conflict when it involves Christian or we'll never be able to have any sort of relationship. "Sure, I'd like that," I say, looking up at him through my hair with a small smile and study him for the first time this morning.

Typically when I see Christian for the first time in a day, he's already been working for an hour or so. Now he's morning fresh and looks like he left home immediately after showering and getting dressed. His always messy hair is still slightly damp and curled at the ends and I have the sudden desire to twist the curls around my finger. He smells amazing and I wonder what it would be like to wake up beside him in the morning.

My eyes widen in alarm at the thought. It must be an aftereffect of my dreams last night.

"Something wrong?" Christian asks, frowning in concern.

I force a smile. "No, of course not," I say, knowing he doesn't believe me.

He leads me into his office where trays of bagels, muffins, and fruit are arranged on a table. "Please, help yourself, Ana," he says distractedly, going straight to his desk and dropping into his chair.

With a frown of my own, I awkwardly go to the table and make a selection of food. Beside it are a few mugs bearing the GEH logo, a selection of teabags, and a teapot with hot water. I'm pleased to find Twinings and quickly make my tea before deciding whether to stay here or go into my office. As I seem to be the only one eating, I decide on my office and start out the door.

"Ana, where are you going?" Christian asks suddenly. I inwardly roll my eyes and turn back to him.

"You're busy, so I thought I'd eat at my desk," I explain.

His expression falls and turns irritated again—at me? "No, please stay," he says softly. "I'm sorry; I'm a little distracted this morning. I'll join you."

Reluctantly, I return to the table and sit. A moment later he's in the seat beside me and spreading cream cheese over a multigrain bagel. Deciding stilted conversation is better than awkward silence, I swallow a piece of strawberry and look up at Christian to find he's looking right back at me. "So who was your meeting with?" I ask curiously, wondering if talking about work is a good idea all things considered.

"I'm looking to acquire an agricultural company," he says quietly, sounding mildly disappointed. "The goal is to find an affordable way to grow food in third-world countries where the soil lacks the necessary vitamins and minerals. GEH formed a program to bring food and medicine to these places, but it's a temporary fix and if we are able to give them the tools to help themselves, it's better in the long term."

I stare at him as he speaks enthralled by the passion he exudes when talking about something like this. "Is that possible?" I ask him.

He shrugs. "Anything is possible, Anastasia, if you're dedicated enough to getting the results," he says. Suddenly I don't think we're talking about third-world countries anymore. "I wanted to apologize for yesterday afternoon."

Oh, we're cutting right to the chase. I gently set the fork I was using for fruit on my plate, my appetite gone. "What do you mean?" I ask.

Raising an eyebrow, he gives me a look telling me I know exactly what he means. "I mean Elena," he says bluntly. "I shouldn't have ignored you the way I did. I panicked when I realized you'd been alone in the elevator with her."

Why? Are they together? "Why?" I manage to ask.

He sighs as though he expected the question but hoped it wouldn't come up. "It's complicated," he says regretfully, "and not something I can discuss at work. For now, let's just say she is not somebody I want involved in this aspect of my life."

"That's vague and slightly offensive," I say without thinking.

"Offensive?" he asks, surprised.

I sigh this time, toying with the handle on my tea mug to avoid meeting his gaze. "I don't know," I mutter. "I understand why you don't want anybody at work to be aware of you and me and whatever this is," I gesture vaguely between us. "I think Ros knows something, though."

He rubs his chin between his fingers. "Yes, I'm getting that impression as well. Luckily she'll never say anything to me about it. And she likes you, so I doubt she'll raise any objections." After a minute of studying me, he reaches over to take one of my hands from my mug, rubbing my fingers with his. "You think I'm ashamed to be seen with you?" he asks softly, staring at me probingly. It's disconcerting. He doesn't give me a chance to answer. "Ana, that's not it at all, I assure you. I would be beyond proud to be seen with you. I simply don't want to put you in a position where should this not work out between us people would still look at you with suspicion. My reputation is what it is and I honestly don't give a fuck what people think about me, but I do care what they think about you."

"So if she was a friend of yours, what's the problem?" I ask bravely. "She obviously already knew who I was; she called me Miss Steele in the elevator. She can know who I am, but I can't know who she is?"

He closes his eyes briefly, possibly to mask the anger I saw flashing across his expression. Because I'm questioning him? "I told you Friday night that the relationships I've had in the past were unconventional. You would be the first conventional relationship I've ever had. She has the potential to screw it all up."

Is that supposed to make sense? "Why would she screw it up?" I ask. Ros said the woman is an old friend of Christian's mother so I imagine she's known him for a long time. Why wouldn't she want him to be happy?

I blink a few times at the thought. Could I really make Christian happy? I really think I would like the chance to find out...

"Ana..." he says quietly, shaking his head. It reminds me of Friday night right before I left feeling like a complete moron. "I want to tell you and I will. Tonight, if you'll still have dinner with me, I'll try to explain and you can make up your own mind." His tone is resolute and I know this is the end of the conversation. "Will you still have dinner with me?"

My curiosity makes me say yes even though I'm almost certain we will continue to talk in circles the way we have been all along. But the smile he gives me at my answer, filled with relief and joy, pushes away every uncertainty and doubt in my mind. For the first time since he said my name in the elevator, I relax as we finish our breakfast. The elevator dings and we both glance out to find Ros exiting, distracted as she types rapidly on her phone. She doesn't even look in our direction as she heads to her office.

Christian smiles. "I guess this means our workday is beginning," he says regretfully. "If you'd like, we can leave together and head to my apartment tonight."

I consider the idea for a moment, eager to spend as much time with him as possible, but I'm reminded of Friday night and really don't want to bother Taylor should I decide I need distance from Christian. "I should go home first," I say. He hides his disappointment quickly. "Seven o'clock again?"

He sighs with vague annoyance, but agrees. After checking that I still have the codes for the elevator and parking garage, he urges me to take whatever food I might like. I refill my teacup and grab the muffin I chose earlier before reluctantly leaving him in the boardroom. I feel his eyes on me until I disappear in my office and I once again wonder what I've gotten myself into.

* * *

Though I intended to spend the day thinking about whether or not a relationship with Christian would be worth the pain when it inevitably ends, I'm run ragged before lunchtime. By the time six o'clock rolls around and I finally finish the research Ros asked me to do on an upcoming attempt to acquire a parts factory in Texas, I'm concerned that I'll be late to Christian's apartment. Unfortunately he's locked in a meeting as I'm leaving so I can't let him know I might need a few more minutes getting ready. I rush home and burst into the apartment hardly noticing that it's been replaced, vaguely surprised to find Kate sitting alone on the couch with her laptop and glasses in place. She's busy, which means she won't stop me to ask details of what's going on tonight or worse, give me a blow-by-blow of what happened when Elliot was here.

"Hey," she mutters, glancing up at my distractedly. "You got some stuff in the mail. It's on your desk."

"Thanks," I call hurriedly over my shoulder. After the world's quickest shower, arranging my hair in some semblance of order, and putting on just enough makeup to cover up the fact that I'm exhausted again, I get dressed and grab my things. "I'm going out," I tell Kate as I slip on my shoes.

This gets her attention. "Where?" she asks suspiciously.

I roll my eyes. "Dinner at Christian's. I don't know how late I'll be," _but I really hope it's later than Friday night was._ "Don't wait up," I say, grabbing my keys from the kitchen counter. "We'll talk tomorrow!"

I close the door on Kate calling after me, trying not to fall and break my ankles in these heels. Thankfully, I've got more time to get to Escala than I thought I would so I don't have to break too many speed limit laws.

Once again, I'm in the elevator that will take me to Christian. Breathing deeply, I resolve that if tonight doesn't go well, that will have to be it. However much I like him and am attracted to him, this game stopped being fun a while ago. When the elevator doors open, Christian is waiting for me in the foyer, hands in his pockets and a small smile on his face as he looks me up and down and apparently not finding me lacking despite what little time I had to get ready. For his part, he never looks not completely put together even when he's wearing the suit pants and shirt he wore to work today, untucked. My eyes travel down and find that he's barefoot and once again marvel that his bare feet are shockingly attractive just like the rest of him.

"Welcome back, Miss Steele," he says quietly as I step out of the elevator. He reaches for my hand and brings it to his lips, holding my gaze the whole time. I'm holding my breath as his lips barely graze my knuckles and I think I might actually collapse if he does it again. Whether he figures this out or not, he straightens up, not releasing my hand, and pulls me into the apartment.

A noise from the kitchen draws my attention and I see an older, immaculately dressed woman working at the stove. She turns and smiles when we reach the breakfast bar.

"Anastasia Steele, this is my housekeeper Mrs. Jones," Christian says.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Steele," Mrs. Jones says politely, shaking my hand. She seems a little shocked at my existence, but I think it's a good sort of shocked.

"Have a seat, Ana," Christian says, gesturing at a stool at the breakfast bar. "Wine?"

Before arriving, I'd decided not to inhibit my judgment with alcohol—Christian himself does that well enough—but now I think something to settle my nerves is exactly what I need. "Yes please," I say shyly. He smiles and pours first a glass for me then for him as he sits beside me.

"Mrs. Jones makes a mean chicken stew," Christian says to me conspiringly, leaning in close enough that I get a large whiff of what I think might be his shower gel.

Now I'm thinking about Christian in the shower again. In response, I drink my wine a little too fast. Christian notices and refills my glass, his lips twitching. "Shall we go to the couch? I think dinner will be a little longer..." He looks questioningly at Mrs. Jones who smiles fondly at us.

"About half an hour, sir," she confirms.

Nodding, Christian gestures for me to get my wine glass and leads me to a large white couch. I sit in the middle and he situates himself in the corner, turning towards me. "You know, I wasn't sure you'd actually show. You seemed... hesitant this morning."

"I was," I say quietly, turning slightly to better see him. I think he's surprised at my honesty. "Every time we're together, we seem to talk in circles."

He sighs, but doesn't disagree. "It does seem that way," he says regretfully. "But it's something I hope to resolve this evening."

"And how do we do that?"

He gives me a slow smile and shakes his head a little. "Honestly, Ana, I have no idea," he says. "I suppose we could start with me telling you how pleased I am that you're here and that recently, spending time with you, has been the high point of my life."

I'm startled by both his declaration and the sudden revelation that I feel the same way. "We haven't really spent all that much time together..."

"I'd like to rectify that as well," he says smoothly.

Setting my wine glass on the table in front of me, I turn more towards him, determined that we figure this out once and for all. "So maybe we should discuss what it is we want," I say, assuming the wine has made me braver.

His smile widens briefly. "Yes, I suppose we should," he says quietly. "Well, what I want is actually quite simple: I want _you_ , Anastasia. It's all I've been thinking about since the day you hit my car."

"Oh," I say, once again taken aback by his bluntness. His words bring up something else I've been wondering. "About that day... Ros told me that the HR department had trouble deciding where to place me and that you made the decision."

"Yes," he says slowly, surprised at the subject change. "It doesn't happen often, but on occasion I'm brought in as a tiebreaker. At first, in all honesty, you didn't stand out among the other interns, but the more I read through your file, the more certain I became that you would be an asset."

"Why, though?" I ask, clueless. "What in my file made you think that?"

"Mostly the letters of recommendation. All of your professors talked about your quiet ambition, willingness to learn, and an intelligence rarely seen in women your age." Somehow he manages to not make that statement seem condescending. "Ros took a look as well and agreed to take you on as her intern, and the rest is history."

My brow furrows. "So the accident... you already knew who I was?" I ask.

"Technically, yes. When you told me your name, it sounded vaguely familiar, but I couldn't place it until you said where you were going to work. Like I said that afternoon, you'd already had a rough enough day and I didn't want to make things worse," he says matter-of-factly. "I didn't think you and I would ever actually interact outside the workplace environment, so I tried to keep it that way. I have very strict rules for myself to keep my life running orderly. One of those rules is about never getting involved with anybody who works for me. It's too complicated, too messy, and has too much potential to backfire spectacularly."

"And yet, here I am," I whisper.

He smiles, reaching out to tuck some hair behind my ear and running his knuckles down my cheek. "Here you are," he whispers back. "I have broken every one of my rules in terms of you and while I know I should probably reset everything back to normal, I don't want to. The problem is that I don't actually know another way to do things, not with the rules blown all to hell. When I told you on Friday night that I'm not good for you, I meant it, but I want to be. I don't understand why and I don't understand why you're the one I want to risk everything for. But assuming you want the same thing I want, I truly believe it will be worth that risk."

His expression is so earnest that I immediately want to believe that everything he says is true and can work. It's a dangerous train of thought; I could be walking into something that, when it ends, will destroy me.

For now, though, I'll have to keep thinking on it as Mrs. Jones announces that dinner is ready. Gracefully, Christian climbs to his feet and holds a hand out for me to take. I do so immediately, enjoying the way his fingers wrap tightly around mine as he pulls me up. I expect him to walk me to the kitchen, but instead, he pulls me until we're pressed together. Slowly, he lifts a hand to cup my cheek while he bends to press his lips against mine. It's a brief kiss that sends a hum through my body, bringing me to life. When we pull back, we're both slightly breathless and Christian seems a bit disoriented.

"I've never felt that before," he breathes mostly to himself.

Swallowing hard, he brings himself back into the moment and leads me to the breakfast bar where two bowls of stew are waiting for us. I'm not sure I even still have an appetite after our conversation and that kiss. Thankfully, he lightens the conversation by asking how work was for me today since we didn't have time to exchange a smile let alone conversation since our breakfast. We talk about Olivia, Andrea's assistant and how irritating Christian finds her.

"She can barely bring me a cup of tea without spilling it all over my carpet," he says dryly.

I raise an eyebrow at him. "Perhaps that's because you intimidate her the way you do most people," I suggest pointedly, wondering when I got this ballsy.

"Do I intimidate you, Anastasia?" he asks, his voice low and dark.

"Much less now than a few weeks ago," I admit. "But yes, you do."

He frowns as though he doesn't like my answer. "So I've told you what I want, Ana," he says, taking a bite of his dinner. "But you've yet to tell me what you want."

Haven't I? Well, before I can decide what I want, there are still things I need to know. "How was your dinner last night with Elena?" I ask quietly.

His eyebrows shoot up as though he's wondering how I even know about that.

"When we got off the elevator, I heard you say that you thought the two of were meeting in the evening," I explain.

"Why do you want to know?" he asks quietly.

I shrug. "Curiosity." _And because I need to know you're not trying to pursue a relationship with me while being in one with someone else..._ The truth of my thoughts startles me, but I manage to hide it. "You said you were going to tell me some things about you, about her."

"I did," he says, irritated at himself for saying it to begin with. "Okay, what do you want to know?"

"You could start with what you mean by 'unconventional relationships' and why Elena would want to screw up a conventional relationship for you. Or do I need to sign that NDA first?"

Running his hands through his hair, Christian turns to me as he thinks of how to explain. "No, you don't have to sign it," he says quietly. "I know you well enough that you won't run to the tabloids with an exposé. They'd probably drag you into it, too." He sighs resignedly. "I've known Elena since I was a kid and when I was fifteen, she seduced me, and we had a six-year long affair."

I choke on my wine and he immediately reaches over to gently pat me on the back. "She what?" I ask incredulously.

"It is what it is," he says, resigned. "When the affair ended, we remained friends and over the last couple of years, we've gone into business together. As for the unconventional side of things... Ana, I'm not what anybody would call normal. I have issues that would make your head spin and because of these issues, among other things, I cannot bear the touch of another person and haven't since I was a small child. The reason isn't important; what matters is that when I was a teenager, I went through a period when I was so angry because I wasn't normal. I couldn't take care of sexual urges the way other boys my age could with girls. Elena showed me a way I could deal with my issues and I've taken those teachings with me from the beginning. I still can't be touched. And the thought of not using what Elena taught me with you is terrifying."

I still don't understand... "Why can't you use whatever it is with me?" I hear myself asking while my mind is screaming at me to address the whole _Elena is a pedophile and abused Christian when he was a vulnerable_ _child_ thing, but judging by his tone, this is the more pressing point at the moment.

He watches me carefully, warring with himself about what to say or do next. "Because I can't," he says simply. "Ana, it doesn't matter. My past is my past, we all have one, and right now, I just want to move forward."

Suddenly, I'm uneasy with his reluctance to share whatever it is with me. "So basically what you're saying," I begin slowly, "is that the moment you decided you... wanted me..." I'm still not sure I heard that right, "you just wiped the slate clean and your past, whatever it is, has no bearing on you anymore?"

He sighs deeply as though he's fighting impatience. "No, of course not," he says softly. "But as far as you and I are concerned, it will have no place with us."

"Why?" I ask. "Am I not good enough for that life?"

"Quite the opposite," he says immediately. "You're too good for it and I won't pull you into something that has the potential to change you into someone I know unequivocally you are not."

So he's saying that whatever he did before me is something that might make him seem like a bad person, but I can't quite assimilate that thought with the Christian I've gotten to know over the last couple of weeks—the one who shows up at my door because I called out of work and arranges to have my apartment security upgraded with hardly any thought. "You can't know that unless you tell me what it is we're talking about. Christian, I'm a big girl; I can make my own decisions."

He seems torn as he stares at me. Eventually he shakes his head and I know he's not going to tell me. I weigh my options—I could accept it and move on with a relationship with the man who has hijacked my mind or I could tell him I can't have a relationship with secrets and walk away.

"I will tell you," he says quietly and earnestly. "Just not yet. Ana, I want you to judge me by who I am when I'm with you, not by the things I've done in the past. I don't want you to run from me."

"You think I'd run?" I ask quietly. He nods, averting his gaze for a moment before reaching for his wine glass. "Look, I'm not going to demand you share your deepest, darkest secrets with me when we hardly know each other. It's not my place. But I'd like to remind you of what I told you earlier this week and you should know that I was nervous about telling you—it's one thing to have a relationship with an intern, but something else entirely when that intern has a psychotic stalker after her."

His expression softens. "You're not going to scare me off," he says sounding vaguely amused, though it doesn't last for long. "I'm glad you told me about your stalker and despite what may happen between us, I will do everything in my power to keep you safe from him. Taylor is already working with Seattle PD to locate him. If he comes anywhere near you, we will know even if you don't. But that's a big part of why I don't want to tell you about my past yet. You might not be able to scare me off, but I know I have the ability to scare me off."

"If you're trying to make yourself seem more attractive to me, you're failing," I say, mostly teasing.

He cracks a reluctant smile. "I won't hurt you, Ana," he says softly. "And I'll never lie to you. There may be things I may be unwilling to share with you, but I promise my reasons for doing so have nothing to do with some belief that I'm ashamed of you or that I don't want you in my life. For now, I simply ask that you trust me and once I have that, I will tell you everything you want to know."

A large part of me wants to continue pushing him, but I get the impression it will only frustrate the both of us and that's not how I want this evening to go.

"Okay," I say quietly. "For now, I will give you the benefit of the doubt."

The smile he gives me washes away all my uncertainty. "Thank you," he says emphatically. He glances at our half-eaten dinners. "I don't know about you, but my appetite has shifted."

My eyes widen at the suggestiveness in his voice and while I have no real experience with this, I can see where this is headed. I want us to move on from this conversation, but there is still one thing he needs to know about me. I swallow hard as he leans in to kiss me. "Wait," I whisper as his lips brush mine.

Frowning, he stops, his eyes darting up to mine. "What's wrong?" he whispers.

I knot my fingers together nervously. If I'm wrong about what he wants to happen next, I'm going to be painfully embarrassed and I doubt I could face him after this. His eyes have darkened and one glance below his belt confirms what he wants. "I'm a virgin," I blurt out, horrified at the sudden declaration. That's not exactly how I planned to say it.

He jerks back into his chair as though I've slapped him. "You... what?" he says. His surprise is more evident now than it was when I told him about Benjamin Reese. His eyes are wide and I can't decide if I see horror in his expression or if it's simply shock. I'm hoping it's the latter. "You're a virgin?"

I frown. "You don't have to sound so incredulous about it," I mutter, wishing my hands weren't shaking so much that I could risk reaching for my wine glass without sloshing it all over the place. "Yes, I am."

He looks flabbergasted. " _How_?" he demands, seemingly at a loss for words.

I continue to frown at him. What does he mean, how? Certainly a man like him is at least familiar with the concept...

"I mean," he says, finding his words, "you're nearly twenty-two and you're... incredible and beautiful... I could go on all night... How have you avoided sex?"

I shrug bashfully, his words countering the embarrassment of this conversation. I'm not sure how to respond.

"Well, now I'm really glad I didn't..." he mutters to himself, shaking his head. Finally he pulls himself together and looks at me as though seeing me for the first time. "Well, this changes things slightly..."

I panic momentarily until he reaches for my hand and with his free one, cups my jaw.

"Miss Steele, you have a decision to make and it is entirely yours," he says. "Would you like to stay or go?"

In the interest of making an informed decision, I ask, "What happens if I stay?"

He gives me a sexy, enigmatic smile that tells me more than he could say with words.

I flush deeply even though I already made my decision when I arrived this evening. "I'd like to stay."

Clearly this was not the answer he expected to hear. His mouth drops open and his eyes are wide absolute shock. "You want to stay?" he whispers disbelievingly.

I swallow. "Unless you don't want me to," I say, having expected a much different reaction. Before the words are even completely out of my mouth, he is kissing me in an almost savage yet grateful manner, hauling me off my stool and into his arms. I suddenly remember what he told me about not liking to be touched and I'm momentarily uncertain how this will work. Tentatively, my fingers find his hair and he doesn't seem to mind that at all so I hold him to me as I kiss him back.

When he drags himself away, we're both breathing heavily. "Come to bed with me, Anastasia," he whispers pleadingly. I nod hastily and he smiles, lifting me into his arms and carrying me down the hall of his apartment.


	13. Chapter 13

When I open my eyes, I'm standing at the foot of what I assume is Christian's bed. I'm sure it's a very nice bed in a very nice room, but right now all I can focus on is the man towering over me, bending to press his lips to my neck and thereby eliciting some not so sophisticated sounds from me. I don't care. My hands are gripping his arms while his hands hold me in place by my hips and though he's only actually touching my skin with his lips, I feel it everywhere. His teeth trap my earlobe gently between them and I moan, digging my fingernails into his arms. He gasps in surprise and I start to apologize and release his arm, but right before he crushes his lips to mine, he looks almost dizzy with pleasure and desire. And I feel powerful knowing I'm doing that to him.

"This is what you want?" he breathes into my ear. "You will always have a choice, Anastasia..."

"Yes," I whisper back. And though I'm nervous and a little uncertain, I know it's only because I overthink everything. I do want this and I want it with him. All doubts and fears mean nothing right now, not when he's looking at me like that one little _yes_ means the world to him.

"Well then, Miss Steele, you're wearing far too much clothing," he says in a low tone that resonates deep inside me. Pressing a brief kiss to my lips, his hands slide around to my back, reaching for the zipper on my dress and he very slowly pulls it down, his fingers grazing my bare skin as they go.

A moment later, he stands back, watching his hands pull the dress off my shoulders revealing me inch by inch, and lets it fall and pool around my feet. He exhales sharply as he looks at me standing before him in only a bra, panties, and heels. I begin to feel self-conscious; is something wrong with me?

"Jesus, Ana, I knew you were beautiful, but this exceeds all expectations," he says sounding stunned. "You're fucking breathtaking, baby."

I gasp at his words and this new term of endearment. I always thought _baby_ sounded trite and clichéd, but from his mouth, it's something special that I can't put words to. He's kissing me again, our tongues winding together as he holds me against his still fully clothed body, his hands wandering all over mine as though he can't decide where he wants to touch me the most.

"Lie down on the bed, baby," he whispers against my mouth. He helps guide me down and I'm relieved that I manage to do it without stumbling and floundering and breaking an ankle or something. I wonder vaguely when I stepped out of my heels, then decide it doesn't matter. Christian is standing at the end of the bed, watching me as he slowly unbuttons his shirt, though he doesn't actually remove it. I stare right back as I watch him remove his pants, letting them fall to the floor like my dress did.

He stalks around to the other side of the bed. "I assume you're not on the pill?" he asks with a raised eyebrow.

I didn't even think about that. Eyes wide, I shake my head, but he smiles reassuringly and reaches into a drawer beside the bed, tossing a foil packet onto the mattress. Even if I wanted to turn back now, I don't think I could. Christian moves back to the end of the bed and like the predator he is, crawls onto the mattress, pressing his lips to my ankle and painfully slowly moving upwards. All I can do is watch, at least until his teeth graze the inside of my thigh. My head falls back, pressing into a pillow as I groan. I feel the smile on his lips as his hands slide up the outsides of my legs, up my hips, up to my bra-clad breasts. I manage to look down at him, finding his stormy eyes looking right back at me, watching every reaction I make. His thumbs brush my nipples before he pulls the bra cup down, pushing my breasts up. He moans against my skin, sliding his hands back down until they reach my panties, and I'm suddenly really glad I chose the pair that matches my black lacy bra. Kate encouraged me to by the set on a shopping trip a few months back. I only did so to shut her up.

Slipping his fingers beneath the band, he pulls them slowly down my legs, then off my feet. He smirks at me, balling the black lace in his hand and brings it up to his nose so he can inhale deeply. I think he's done it to shock me; the widening smirk at my scandalized yet amused gasp tells me that much. Dropping my panties on the floor behind him, he crawls up until he has me caged with his arms and legs.

I frown momentarily. "You're still wearing your shirt," I point out.

He freezes, something dark passing behind his eyes. Swallowing hard, he kneels up and removes his shirt. Still straddling my hips, he takes my hands and pulls them above my head. "Keep your hands up there," he says pleadingly.

As much as I want to ask him about this touch thing, I know now is definitely not the time so in order to keep from ruining the moment, I nod. "I will," I promise him in a whisper.

His entire body relaxes and he gives me a dazzling shy smile that knocks the breath out of me. The kiss he gives me is full of gratitude and promise, and he lowers himself until his weight is resting on me. I gasp as he presses his hips into mine. This is already nearly too much; I'm not sure I'll make it through much more.

"I've got you, baby," he whispers into my ear, and I realize I'm trembling in anticipation. His lips move down my neck to my breasts where he takes my nipples between them and begins sucking gently at first, and then with more force until I cry out and arch my back into his mouth. One of his hands moves to the small of my back pushing me into him while his free one moves to my other breast and takes that nipple between his thumb and forefinger, twisting slightly. I feel it all the way down to my toes.

"You're very responsive, Ana," he breathes, looking up at me in what I think might be awe. "I can do quite a lot of that."

Yes, I'm sure you can, Christian... I'm fairly certain I intended to say it out loud with a touch of teasing sarcasm, but his renewed attention to my breasts turns the words into a twisted cry, begging for more or begging him to stop, I don't know. When I feel his teeth on my nipple, my eyes clench shut so tightly that light erupts behind the lids and my entire body erupts with sensation I didn't realize it was possible to feel.

"You're beautiful when you come," Christian whispers, mostly to himself I think; I couldn't respond even if I knew what to say to that. "I have to see that again..."

Again? My eyes shoot open as he shimmies down my body, pushing my legs apart so he can lie between them. His eyes locked with mine, he presses his mouth to the apex of my thighs, my clitoris between his lips, and it only takes a moment before I'm back on the precipice. I gasp when his fingers push inside me.

He moans. "Fuck, you're so wet." His mouth is on me again, pushing me until I'm crying out yet again. I whimper as I come down from my second ever orgasm and he slowly pulls away from me, his eyes darker than I've ever seen them. "I want you now," he declares, shoving himself off the bed and quickly removes his boxers.

I stare at what he's revealed to me, my mouth dropping open. He smirks at me. "If that's an offer," he says teasingly, crawling back above me to tap my jaw shut again, "it's one I'll gladly accept, but not yet." I start to protest, but he captures my lips again, reaching over for the foil packet. My eyes dart down to watch him roll the condom over himself expertly and I wonder if I've ever seen anything so hot in my life. I'm pretty sure the answer is no.

He lowers himself again, rubbing himself against me and it's a struggle to keep my hands above my head. I want nothing more than to hold him to me by his shoulders, but I resist. "Ready, baby?" he whispers, his lips trailing kisses from my ear to the corner of my mouth.

With wide, eager eyes, I nod and he kisses me slowly and deeply—as a distraction, I think; I feel him at my entrance, pushing and stretching me. His eyes are open and watching my reaction, his mouth lax, and with a look of determination, he slams into me, burying himself. I cry out in pain this time, but it's fleeting.

"Open your eyes, Ana, look at me," he whispers. I do and find him wearing an expression made up of pleasure and regret. "Are you okay?"

His hips are moving slightly against mine trying to get me used to the new sensation, and the pain fades, leaving only a feeling of fulfillment almost like I've been waiting my whole life for this moment, for this man. "Yes," I say breathlessly, nodding.

Lips twitching up in a smile, he pulls back his hips slowly, watching every change in my expression, and when he's almost left me completely, he pushes back in just as slowly. While I'm learning about the new feelings erupting in me, I watch his face just as closely and if I didn't know any better, I'd say the look in his eyes is close to awe and something else I can't quite name. He lowers himself onto me again, interlocking my fingers with his. "Wrap your legs around my waist, baby," he breathes. "I'm going to move now."

I do as I'm told and somehow he's now deeper than before. We groan simultaneously. Using his knees as leverage, he does exactly as he said he would, slow and steady at first, but as I feel myself building again, his movements turn fast and hard, his brow furrowing, a frown on his lips, sweat building between our bodies. He releases my hands so he can wrap the fingers of one hand in my hair and the other slides around to my lower back, pressing me into him. I can't resist the urge to let my hands climb to his hair and I wrap it between my fingers, pulling. A tiny part of me expects him to stop suddenly because I've touched him, but he only squeezes his eyes shut, throwing his head back slightly. I think he likes this...

"Come on, Ana," he growls softly. "I want to see you come again." He pounds an almost punishing rhythm until I'm nothing but sensation again. "Yes!" A few more thrusts and he holds himself inside of me, growling out a garbled version of my name before he collapses on me.

I keep my fingers in his hair to resist trailing them down his shoulders, his arms, his back. It's a few minutes before he moves again, using his hands to push up over me as he looks me in the eyes as though he's searching for something—a feeling, an explanation, or maybe my soul—but he only swallows hard and, after pressing a kiss to my lips, pulls out of me. I wince as he drops to the mattress beside me. I look over to see him remove the condom, knot it, and drop it onto the floor, but all I really register is the fact that I've just lost my virginity to Christian Grey and nothing has ever felt more right.

He rolls onto his side to look at me. "Are you all right?" he asks softly, running the backs of his finger down my cheek. He looks concerned and possibly nervous about my response.

I bite my lip against a smile, but it's all the answer he needs. "Better than all right," I whisper shyly anyway.

He beams, looking relieved, leaning in to kiss me slowly. "I'm very glad to hear that," he murmurs against my lips.

I yawn suddenly and he raises his eyebrows in what I hope is feigned indignation.

"Am I boring you, Miss Steele?" he asks sternly even though I can see he's fighting against a smile.

I grimace in apology. "Of course not," I answer. "But I haven't been sleeping well in the last few weeks; I guess it's catching up with me."

He frowns in concern that softens into understanding. "Turn onto your side," he orders. "And sleep, baby."

The words are barely out of his mouth when I feel the sheet and blanket being pulled over us, and his arms wrapping around me while he buries his face between my neck and shoulder. Feeling sated and whole and pleasantly exhausted, my eyes close on their own. Christian whispers something into my hair, but I'm too far gone to hear the words.

* * *

Wincing, I push myself up in Christian's empty bed. I glance at the alarm clock and find it's just after five in the morning and I've apparently slept all night. It's only when I look around the room that I recall what happened last night and why I'm completely naked beneath the sheets. I had sex. With Christian Grey. Kate is going to freak.

I frown to myself. I know I'll have to tell Kate what happened, but I really don't want to—not every detail, anyway. This is something special I want to covet and keep between Christian and myself however possible that is.

Vaguely, I wonder as I head into the bathroom where Christian is and what happens next. It's a workday and I didn't have the forethought to bring a change of clothes, and the last thing I want is to do the infamous walk of shame. It's still early; I have time to go home, shower, and change, but I don't like that idea as it will cut into spending time with Christian before work. Then again, if we have any hope of keeping things between us quiet at work, time together is something we'll have to sacrifice. That is if he still wants something between us. For all I know, I was a complete disappointment last night and his absence now only makes that feeling worse.

Whatever the result, I need to face it and that means finding Christian, preferably with clothes on. Back in the bedroom, I'm gathering my clothes from all over the floor when the door opens. Instinctively, I raise my clothes to cover me as best I can, only slightly relieved to find Christian entering the room wearing a t-shirt and workout shorts. Judging by the fact that he's drenched in sweat, he's been for a workout. He smiles slowly when he finds me, his eyes turning teasing when he sees how ineffectively I'm hiding myself.

"Good morning, Miss Steele," he murmurs, sauntering over to me. "I was just about to come wake you."

I suddenly regret waking up so soon as I wonder how he planned to wake me. "Oh," I mouth.

He smirks at my lack of response, reaching up to take my clothes from me, dropping them right back on the floor. With my hands free and my body on display, he cups the back of my neck while his free hand finds my behind, pulling me against him. I should probably protest about how sweaty he is, but I'm actually enjoying it. He smells amazing as always and his kiss distracts me from everything else.

"Shower with me," he breathes against my lips.

Nodding, I'm under his spell once again as he leads me back into the bathroom. He releases me in order to turn on the shower, never taking his eyes from me even as he removes his clothing. I glance down his body appreciatively, really seeing it for the first time. He's beautiful, a perfect specimen of the male species, and the look in his eyes says he thinks the same about me. My eyes dart over his chest and abs, and I frown briefly at the sight of a handful of small, circular scars smattered amongst his chest hair. They're not birthmarks, that much I know, which means somebody somehow did this to him.

The shutters fall over his eyes as he figures out what I'm staring at. "Don't," he says in warning. I frown at him, his jaw tense. "Just don't, Ana..."

I'm starting to get a better idea of why he doesn't like to be touched and it's heartbreaking. "I'm sorry," I whisper, my eyes wide and filling with water.

"Get in," he demands, turning away from my gaze.

Though I don't completely understand what I did wrong, I step under the hot water in the shower, wincing for a moment until my body adjusts to the temperature. For a second, I think he might leave me to shower alone, but he enters the stall, stepping under the water with me.

"It's not something I want to talk about now or ever, really," he says by way of explanation. "I don't want your pity."

My mouth drops open and I begin to argue that it's not pity, only curiosity and a desire to know him better, but he crushes his lips to mine, kissing me desperately. I grip his arms, noting that he doesn't mind being touched here. He turns me and presses my back to the cold tile of the shower.

"Are you sore?" he asks, trailing kisses down my neck.

"A little," I answer in a whimper, feeling his responding smile.

"I want you again, Anastasia," he declares. "Here, in the shower."

I nod almost frantically. "Yes. Please."

He takes my hands and wraps them around his neck. "Keep your hands there," he warns, his hands sliding down to the backs of my thighs. "And hold on."

He lifts me into his arms and in one movement, slides all the way into me. My head falls back against the tiles as we moan in unison at the amazing feeling of being joined so completely. His face his buried in my neck as he holds steady inside me, planting his feet as he tries to catch his breath.

"This is going to be fast, baby," he warns me. I can only nod in response, my jaw slack. He pounds into me relentlessly, hitting spots inside me that I never knew existed, all of which make me feel amazing. It's not long before he's begging me to come for him, to give myself to him, and I have no choice in the matter—I shatter around him, shouting his name so that it echoes around us.

"Thank fuck," he growls, thrusting harder and faster until he cries out my name like it's prayer, something one says when they're trying to profess gratitude. He holds me against the wall as we come to our senses. Slowly, he lowers me to the shower floor until my feet touch. I'm still not sure my legs will support me and I think he understands that because even when he reaches over for a bottle of shampoo, he keeps one hand wrapped around my waist to keep me upright.

I vaguely notice that when he finally does release me, he's trying to surreptitiously remove a condom—where the hell did that come from?

Christian chuckles and I realize I said that out loud. "A man can hope," he answers, massaging shampoo into my hair. "Turn around, Miss Steele."

I do as I'm told, enjoying this feeling of being taken care of. He washes me as though I'm something precious to him and I'm starting to feel overwhelmed again by how strongly I feel for him already. Is it only because of last night or has this been building up all along? I have no idea and right now it's too complicated to think about.

"I should head home," I say quietly as he washes away the soap residue on my body.

He looks startled, frowning as he looks down on me. "Why?" he asks sharply, possibly to mask the uneasiness he seems to be feeling right now.

"I need to change into something work appropriate," I explain. "I'm not particularly eager to do the dreaded walk of shame."

His expression relaxes. "You won't have to," he assures me, pressing his lips briefly to mine. "I had Taylor pick up a few things for you to wear today. I wanted to have breakfast with you today, properly, not like yesterday." I frown at his words, wondering what he means by that, but I focus on what else he has said.

"You had Taylor..." I say slowly. "It's five in the morning. What did he do, go to my apartment?"

He smirks. "I am a man of means, Miss Steele. In this world, a well-known name and a few dollars get you a long way."

I frown deeper, unsure how I feel about him buying clothes for me.

"Don't frown, baby," he chides, backing away enough that he can wash himself. "I've figured out how you feel about me spending money on you, but you should get used to it; it will not be the last time I do it. Besides, if you leave to go back to your apartment to change, it cuts into my time with you."

I smile shyly at him, relieved that he seems to feel the same about me as I feel for him. "Well, since you put it so nicely, I suppose I can let it slide this one time," I say teasingly.

He smirks at me. "I'm glad to hear it," he says dryly. "Now, why don't you get dressed so I can finish my shower and we can enjoy the breakfast Mrs. Jones is currently preparing for us before I have to leave?"

I get the impression remaining in the shower with him will only serve as a distraction, so I slide past him, loving the sharp intake of breath I hear from him as I step out of the shower. As I towel off, I feel his eyes on me and as much as I want to get right back in the shower with him to take advantage of the look in his eyes, I reluctantly leave the room. Almost immediately I locate a dress hanging from the closet door. I smile, noting that Taylor apparently chose something I would have chosen for myself to wear to work. I'm slipping my feet into my shoes from yesterday when Christian exits the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist and water dripping from his hair to his skin. Suddenly I want to run my tongue all over him, but he sees it, too, and smirking, heads into his closet to get dressed.

I sit on the bed as he leaves the closet fully dressed, tying his tie in a perfect Windsor knot.

"See something you like?" he asks, giving me the same looking over.

Nodding, I don't try to hide the fact that I'm staring and he seems pleased with himself.

"Come, Miss Steele," he says, grabbing his suit jacket and holding out a hand for me to take, which I do immediately because really, who wouldn't?

I feel shy all of a sudden as we reach the kitchen and find Mrs. Jones plating what looks to be eggs, bacon, and pancakes. I'm sure she knows exactly why I'm here this morning and what Christian and I did last night. He smirks at me again and gestures for me to take a seat.

"Good morning, Miss Steele," Mrs. Jones says, placing a plate and what I suspect is a cup of Twinings English Breakfast tea made to my specifications before me.

I smile back at her both in greeting and gratitude. "This looks wonderful, thank you," I say quietly.

"Enjoy," Mrs. Jones says, looking between Christian and me happily. A second later, she's out of the kitchen, leaving us alone.

I'd expected this morning to be at least a little awkward, but I feel comfortable in his presence as though I've known him for years. "So what's next?" I ask quietly, pushing away some of the stronger feelings building up.

He frowns. "What do you mean?" he asks slowly.

I shrug. "At work," I elaborate. "After work... I don't know how any of this is supposed to go."

"Neither do I," he admits, his frown deepening. "But I suppose at work we do what we've been doing, except now we know where we stand with one another. I assume we're still planning to keep it all quiet for now, so we don't treat each other any differently." The way he says it suggests the thought is displeasing to him; I agree. "And after work..." He smiles slowly. "Well, after work, you're all mine."

"Is that so?" I say tartly, managing to somehow pull off mild indifference. His expression begins to slip so I put him out of his misery. "Perhaps you'll be all mine."

He looks surprised at my words but pleased, and possibly surprised that he finds the thought pleasing. "Perhaps I will, Miss Steele," he murmurs, reaching over to run a finger across my lips. "We'll figure this out, Ana. We just have to be patient, however much I loathe being patient." I smile at the slight growl in his voice at the last few words.

"Patience, then," I agree. "I think I can handle that."

* * *

A few hours later, I'm walking into GEH feeling better than I have in weeks. Well, I'm a little sore, but it's a pleasurable sort of soreness that I'm eager to experience as often as possible. I look down at my phone as I step off the elevator on the twentieth floor and find several concerned text messages from Kate about where I am and if I'm okay. I text back that I'm fine and I'll talk to her tonight, though at this point I wouldn't be surprised if she shows up here at GEH for answers.

To my surprise, Christian isn't in his office, but in order to keep up the charade of there being nothing between us in the office, I simply smile at Andrea and make my way to my own office rather than asking where he is. Ros is pacing around her office—I can see her through the open door that separates our offices—and she doesn't look happy.

"You've had six months to get your shit together and now you're telling me you're not interested?" she shouts over the phone. "Do you have any idea how much time and money has gone into this deal or how much this benefits your company?" She's quiet for a moment as the other person responds through what I assume is a Bluetooth receiver. "Bullshit! What you're actually doing is fucking over Christian Grey. I'm sure you're smart enough to realize what happens when you fuck with Christian Grey and you've spent six months teasing him. I guarantee that's not something you want to do."

A moment later, I hear Ros growl and I assume that means she's ended her call so I poke my head around the corner of our shared wall. "I'd say good morning, but I'm sure you wouldn't agree with that assessment," I say tentatively.

Spinning around to face me, she rolls her eyes. "The one thing I hate most in the world is giving Christian bad news," she informs me, leaning against her desk. "And this is going to really piss him off. Have you seen him this morning?"

For a second, I think she can see what happened last night written all over my face. "Um, no, of course not," I say too quickly. "Why would I have seen him?"

Ros's eyebrows rise suspiciously. "I was just wondering if you saw him in his office when you got out of the elevator," she says slowly. "Something you want to discuss?"

I shake my head quickly and she smirks knowingly.

"That's the answer I was hoping for," she says wryly, sighing. "So he's still at his meeting. Let's just hope his undoubtedly good mood this morning doesn't fade before he gets back here. Come on, we need to figure out how to salvage this mess before he gets back."

It turns out the deal that's gone south this morning is one Christian has been putting a lot of time and energy into. He was attempting to acquire a contract that would keep a distribution center here in Seattle in business and provide a cost-effective way to transport materials to his shipping yards around the world.

"He's going to be pissed," Ros says. "He gets ideas in his head about how to do things and what he wants, and if it doesn't work out the way he wants it to, he doesn't always take it well. And this was something he really wanted."

I wonder vaguely how he isn't used to business disappointment by now; surely not everyone has told him yes for his entire life.

 _You did,_ my subconscious says snidely. _How many other women have also said yes?_

The thought is bothersome so shake it way; it's not important right now. "Is there any way to save the deal?" I ask Ros.

"I don't know," she answers. "At this point, they seem to be fighting back on general principle that Christian Grey is the one trying to buy them out. They didn't say as much, but I think someone else is making another offer, much like the situation in Taiwan. We need to find out who the other company is and what they're offering."

"How do we do that?" I ask cautiously, slightly disconcerted at the smile on Ros's face.

"Trust me, Ana, you don't want to know," she says, pushing off my desk. "I need to go have a chat with legal. They prefer knowing ahead of time when we do something that isn't always exactly within the law."

My eyebrows shoot up. "You're right, I don't want to know."

She winks at me and I return to my desk, checking my email while I wait for Ros to return. There's a message from an unfamiliar email address with an attachment included. Frowning and curious, I open the attachment, noting the email was only sent a few minutes ago. I'm looking at a photo of Christian wearing the suit he was wearing the last time I saw him and sitting at a coffee shop I recognize. But it's not the location that bothers me; it's the person who is sitting across from Christian who is holding his arm in what I think is a comforting manner. It's the woman he told me about only last night, the woman who abused him as a child and still clearly has her claws deep in him. It's Elena.


	14. Chapter 14

For the rest of the day, I'm distracted by the photo that was emailed to me even while Ros is making plans to find out the identity of the company trying to take the distribution center from under Christian's nose. I'm not clear on the details, but I'm sure that's Ros's intention—to keep me away from anything that might come back and bite me in the ass. It's a shame she can't do that when it comes to Christian.

The man himself arrived in the building about an hour or so after I got the email and I've been trying to avoid him since. It's a nearly impossible task; Ros was forced to bring him up to speed about recent developments and as predicted, he's pissed. As a result, he's demanded that a solution be worked out by the end of the day. He's been in and out of Ros's office a dozen times and has hardly glanced in my direction. I wonder occasionally if it's guilt that keeps him from looking at me or our agreement to keep things quiet.

Near the end of the day, I'm in the copy room gathering duplicate forms that Ros needed when I hear the door close softly behind me. Without even turning around, I know who is in the room with me; every nerve in my body is on high alert and my traitorous mind replaces thoughts of the email with memories of last night.

Strong arms wrap around my middle and warm lips press against my neck. "I missed you today," he murmurs into my ear.

I stiffen immediately. "Did you?" I ask quietly.

His body tenses as I pull out of his hold and turn to face him. He's frowning. "What's wrong?" he asks, reaching up to cup my cheek. "You look angry."

Do I? I'm not sure it's anger that I'm feeling; more like doubt and some hurt feelings that I can't explain. "How was your meeting this morning?" I ask evenly.

He blinks a few times in surprise. "It was fine," he says suspiciously. "Why do you ask?"

This isn't a conversation we should have at work, that much I know. "Curiosity," I tell him.

"Curiosity," he repeats, not believing me. "Ana, what's going on?"

I shake my head. "We shouldn't be here alone together," I force myself to say, however much I want nothing more than to be alone with him for as long as possible. "I still have work to do."

Part of me expects him to remind me that it's his company and he can do whatever he damn well pleases, but rationality seems to return suddenly. "As you wish, Miss Steele," he says coolly, the shutters falling over his eyes. He steps back, giving me a clear path to the door, but as I pass him, he gently clasps my elbow. "Are you coming home with me tonight?"

I'm torn. On the one hand, that's exactly what I want. On the other, I'm still confused about what is between us right now and uncertain what it means that he was with _her_ this morning, that _she_ was the reason he left his apartment so early. "I'll meet you there," I say eventually.

He smiles in relief. "Good," he says softly. "I think you're exactly what I need after this shitty day."

I want to agree, but something hold me back. Smiling tightly, I again pull from his grasp and leave the copy room. A few moments later, I hear him behind me, but I don't turn back as I enter my office.

Why is he so complicated? Or perhaps I'm the one making it complicated. I grew up lacking the self-esteem necessary to believe I could ever be worthy of a man like him and clearly that hasn't changed simply because I'm no longer a virgin. I just don't have the answers—only he does—and the only way I'm going to know for certain is to actually talk to him rather than jumping to conclusions or running. Besides, I'm pretty sure I told him I wouldn't run. Well, I won't unless I'm given real reason to do so.

The thought is painful and not one I want to dwell on.

* * *

Though I know without a doubt Kate is waiting at home for a detailed report from last night, there are more pressing matters to attend to. Besides, she'll realize immediately that I'm not in nearly as good a mood as I should be after last night and I'm really not interested in telling her all of the sordid details. So when I leave GEH, I head straight for Escala knowing Christian is only a few minutes behind me. I remain in my car trying to think about what I'm going to say to him about this, even if I have the right to say anything to him about this. Yes, we've had sex twice now and I'm very much looking forward to the next time, but that doesn't give me the right to demand explanations from him. Does it?

I jump when there is a soft tap on my car window and I look up to find Christian smiling crookedly at me. Or I could just pretend I didn't get the photo in order to ensure he never loses that expression on his lips or in his eyes. He opens the door and holds out a hand to help me out, immediately pulling me into his arms and kissing me with such exuberance that if not for the presence of Taylor somewhere around here, I'm sure I would be naked and screaming his name against my car in a matter of minutes.

Groaning, he pulls away, his eyes dark and his hips digging into mine. "I need to get you upstairs, Miss Steele," he says and it sounds vaguely like a threat. "Come."

He pulls me by the hand to the elevator and once the doors close, though he doesn't take his eyes off of mine, he also doesn't pull me against him again. The tension between us is palpable and it's not the same tension that was present in the copy room; this is more enjoyable.

Rather than pulling me straight into the bedroom, he instead pours each of us a glass of wine and leads me to the couch, just like last night. He hands me a glass and sits beside me looking determined. "Now you can tell me what was going on at work," he says softly, taking my hand in his free one. "And why you've been so distracted when I've seen you and upset when you thought I wasn't looking."

Oh, so we're getting right into it. Suddenly, I'm not sure it's a good idea, but my mouth disagrees. "Did you enjoy your morning with Elena?" I ask bravely, sipping my wine.

He pales immediately. "What?" he whispers. "How do you know about that?"

I roll my eyes and his jaw tenses, though I don't know why. "Well, it certainly wasn't from you," I say petulantly and I think that's the real reason I'm upset with him. I reach into my pocket for my phone and pull up my email, handing it to him when the photo is on the screen.

"Who sent this to you?" he asks slowly.

"I don't know," I say honestly.

He nods, studying the image until the screen goes black. "I didn't keep it from you because I needed to keep it a secret," he says. "I don't want secrets between us, Ana. I've told you Elena and I are in business together; that's what this morning was about. She needed advice on something regarding the salons and that was the only time slot I had available today. I sure as hell wasn't going to make plans with her for this evening; I'd rather spend it with you." His charming smile almost distracts me.

"Do all your business meetings involve the other person holding onto your arm?" I ask, shocked at the coldness with which the words come from my mouth.

His brow furrows. "Ana, I've told you that Elena and I are friends. She knows me very well and she knew there was something different about me this morning."

"Did you tell her about us?" I ask tightly.

"I didn't need to," he responds. "She knew. I didn't want her to be aware of you; she wouldn't approve. I was right about that, but it doesn't matter. I told her to mind her own fucking business that you have nothing to do with her, and that is how it will stay." His irritated expression softens. "Maybe I should have told you this morning, but last night was amazing, Ana. I've never felt that way with anybody and if you want complete honesty, it frightens me. I don't want anybody to jeopardize us or what we can have, especially when I really don't understand the possible potential." He places his wine glass on the coffee table and jumps to his feet, pacing. "There is something about you, Anastasia, that calls to me on some deep and fundamental level that I didn't know existed within me. Yes, it frightens the hell out of me because I have no control over whatever future is unfolding between us. But it's also enticing in a way that nothing else in my life has ever been."

I'm floored by his admission, more so that he's voicing every thought and feeling I've been having for weeks. The problem is that I keep coming back to his comment about secrets and how he doesn't want them between us. He's already keeping secrets from me, isn't he? He still hasn't told me what "unconventional relationships" means and my imagination has been running wild and I don't particularly like the possible results.

"But you do have secrets, don't you?" I say quietly. He stops suddenly in front of me, looking down at me with what might be panic. "I know I said I would give you the benefit of the doubt and I will—I am—but there's so much I don't understand about you, so much you're holding back."

He stoops down in front of me. "I said I would tell you and I meant it," he begins. "But not until you stop believing that what I'm hiding from you has anything to do with me being with another woman or that I'm ashamed of you so I don't want anybody to know we're together. I see it in your eyes all the time, Ana." He smirks a little. "Well, except for last night when what I saw in your eyes told me that you actually believe you deserve to be here with me. If anyone is unworthy, I am unworthy of you, Miss Steele."

"You could have anyone," I hear myself whisper to him. "Why me?"

"Why not you?" he counters without missing a beat. "Ana, I'm not going to pretend you're the first woman I've ever been with because we both know it would be a lie and I promised to never lie to you. But the women I've been with in the past didn't hold any interest for me beyond the basics. I never wanted to spend an evening with them, have a meal with them, dance with them, share my bed with them, and I sure as hell never wanted to sleep beside them all night. Last night was a first for me, the first of many, I hope."

"I don't understand why you're friends with her, Christian. She took advantage of you and from what you've told me, you were already vulnerable. How do you remain friends with a person like that?"

"I had a choice," he says simply. "I won't tell you everything now, because you still won't understand, but what Elena and I did helped me become who I am today. You'll never have to see or speak to her, or even hear about her. These days all I'm interested in talking to her about is the salon business."

I'm still frowning instead of being relieved that there's nothing between them anymore and that he feels so strongly for me. He notices my hesitation and studies me for a moment before I see amusement shoot through his eyes. "Ana Steele, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you're jealous," he says sounding almost pleased. When I only scowl at him in response, he beams at me looking younger than his twenty-seven years of age. The kiss he gives me wipes my mind clean of all other thoughts. "Baby, you have no reason to be jealous, I promise you."

I'd like to respond, but his kiss took the breath from me.

Someone clearing their throat catches Christian's attention. "Miss Bailey is here to see you, sir," Taylor announces.

My eyes widen with something akin to panic. It's one thing for my immediate boss to suspect there might be something going on between her boss and me, but something else entirely to see it firsthand. I look down at Christian expecting to see panic reflected in his expression, but he's smiling wryly.

"Of course she is," he mutters, sighing as he pushes to his feet and pulling me up with him.

We hear the ding of the elevator and as I turn around, Ros's voice. "Christian, I hate to interrupt you at home, but—" She stops suddenly when she sees me standing with Christian.

Christian smirks. "Speechless, Ros? This is a rarity," he says, putting an arm around my shoulder and pulling me against him.

Ros's mouth drops open. "Yes," she manages, still in shock. "Hi, Ana."

I raise my hand in a pathetic attempt to wave. "Hey, Ros," I say in a small voice. "How's it going?"

She chokes out a laugh. "Much better for you two than for me, obviously," she says, snapping out of her shock finally. "I mean, I suspected, but..."

"Well, now you know," Christian says quietly, his tone serious.

Ros's gaze snaps to him and they seem to have some silent conversation. She sighs. "Look, what you two do in your own time is none of my business. I only hope it won't affect _our_ business."

Christian tenses and for a moment, I expect him to be angry even though he had to suspect this conversation if Ros ever learned the truth. "It's our intention that it won't," he says, still quietly. "But my main concern is how it will affect Ana at work."

I wonder if I should excuse myself from the room while they have this conversation about me, but Ros looks back at me again, smiling reassuringly. "Well, I sure as hell won't treat her any differently," she says. "You, on the other hand, Grey... If you hurt my intern, you'll have me to answer to."

My eyes widen again at her words, both that she's so protective of me and that she actually said that to Christian.

"Well, then..." he says, smiling down at me. "I suppose I have no choice but to not hurt her." The words are aimed at Ros, but he's looking at me as he says them. His arm slips off my shoulders and he steps towards Ros. "So what brings you all the way to Escala, Miss Bailey?"

She gives him a withering glare. At some point in the last few weeks, I recall her mentioning that she basically lives across the street from here. "We have a work problem," she says.

Sighing, Christian nods. "Go into my study. I'll be there in a moment."

Ros shoots me a wink and does as she's told, leaving me alone with Christian. "Let me get rid of her, and we'll have the evening to ourselves. Unless you want to join us?"

It's tempting, but we need some line between work and home and we might as well begin drawing it now. "Go ahead. I need to call Kate anyway."

He smiles understandingly and leans down to kiss me before following Ros's footsteps somewhere down the hall past his bedroom. Sometime soon, I really need to have him give me a tour of this apartment; I haven't seen much of it at all. Sighing, I grab my phone and head out onto the balcony, taking a moment to appreciate the view over Seattle. Christian is so removed up here, so secluded, and I think he likes that for the most part. But I also think he's realizing that whatever he did before isn't as gratifying as he thought it would and I'm just naïve enough to believe I'm capable of giving him whatever it is he's missing.

I'll have to wrap my head around this whole Elena thing; I know it will be a continued issue if I let it be one. I suppose the only real way to get over this... jealousy—if that's what it is—is for Christian to tell me about his life before me. Sighing, I recall the reason for coming out here and call Kate.

She grills me for ten minutes about what happened last night and I give her the bare minimum in details. Ros is still here and I really don't think Christian would appreciate her overhearing such details. Besides, even if I was at home with Kate, I'd probably keep as much to myself as possible; it's not really her business anyway. She asks when I'm coming home and I say that I don't know, even though I at least need to drop by to grab some clothes. Having Taylor pick me up a few things this morning was awkward enough, especially when I noticed the bra and panty set with the dress and shoes. And I'm really not particularly comfortable having Christian spend his money on me. There's that whole CEO/intern thing going on; add that in with recent graduate targeting a wealthy, successful man and becoming a gold digger, and my reputation in Seattle, and possibly the entire state of Washington, is ruined for the rest of my life.

A pair of arms slips around my waist, startling me. Christian chuckles softly against my hair and presses a lingering kiss against my temple.

"I take it Ros is gone?" I ask, feeling almost drugged with how good it feels to be in his arms and breathe him in.

"She did," he confirms with a sigh. "And I need to pack." I tense in his arms. "The jet is waiting to take me to New York to clean up a mess; I'll probably be gone until early next week."

"Oh," I say, disappointed. "Is Ros going?"

He shakes his head against mine. "No, I'll need her here to put out fires." He hesitates. "I want you to come with me."

It's tempting—ridiculously tempting—but I know my answer immediately. "You know I can't," I say regretfully. "Ros might need me and how will it look to the rest of GEH if I suddenly disappear for the exact amount of time as the CEO?"

"I don't give a fuck how it looks," he says petulantly. Regardless, I know he won't push the issue. We stand in silence for a while staring at the city and I wonder exactly how much time he has before he needs to leave and whether we have time to do what I really know we both want to do if the hardness pressed into my backside is any indication. "God, I want to take you right here, right now, Anastasia," he whispers into my ear. "But I don't have the time."

Well, that answers that. I struggle to hide my disappointment and realize I fail when I feel his entire body shaking in amusement. "If you want, you're free to stay here while I'm gone," he murmurs, bending to press his lips to my neck.

"I should go home," I respond. "Kate will send a rescue team if I don't."

He chuckles, removing his arms from around me and taking my hand to pull me back into the apartment and his bedroom where I settle on the bed and watch him pull out a suitcase and begin packing. I realize suddenly that I'm going to miss him while he's gone and knowing I won't see him for days is depressing.

"I'm taking Taylor with me," he says as he finishes packing. "But I want to assign another member of my security team to keep an eye on things with you while I'm gone." I start to protest, but the glare he shoots me shuts my mouth for me. "With that Reese fucker on the loose, I should have assigned someone to you the moment I found out, but I didn't because I knew you wouldn't like it and I didn't want to start an argument. I'm close enough now in case something happens to you and I need to get to you, but I won't sleep knowing I'm across the country and you're without protection."

"Is this negotiable?" I ask with a raised eyebrow, already knowing the answer.

"No," he says firmly, glaring. "Look, I'm not saying Sawyer needs to move in with you, but another set of eyes can't hurt."

I give him a brief smile. "Okay," I acquiesce. "I'll take the babysitter."

He narrows his eyes on me, though I think he's more amused and relieved than irritated. "Thank you," he says quietly, bending to kiss me.

What I think was supposed to begin as a brief kiss turns into something more exciting when Christian pushes me back onto the bed and climbs over me, pulling my hands over my head with one of his own and uses the other to travel down my side to the back of my knee. He hitches my leg around his leg and grinds himself into me, causing me to groan longingly. After trailing his lips and teeth from my mouth down to my neck, he pushes away from me breathing heavily.

"Do you have any idea how tempted I am to say fuck this trip and stay here with you?" he asks, pulling me upright. "You have one hell of an effect on me, Miss Steele."

"Ditto, Mr. Grey," I respond shyly. He looks at me in surprise as though he had no idea of how he affects me and a slow smile I've never seen before grows on his lips. It's as shy as mine and makes him look years younger. The thought that I'd walk over broken glass to see that smile again pops into my mind.

A few minutes later, he's leading me into the parking garage and pressing me into my car for a proper goodbye and a promise of what will happen when he gets home. He leaves me feeling so dazed I'm not sure I can make it home without crashing into a building.

Somehow I do, and I'm only slightly surprised when I open the brand-new apartment door I've hardly glanced at since it was installed and find Kate on the couch pinned beneath one Elliot Grey. For a second, I'm tempted to back out the door again to give them some privacy; instead close the door a little harder than I normally would and fight a laugh at how quickly they jump apart.

"Ana!" Elliot says cheerfully as Kate readjusts her clothing and fixes her hair. "Did you finally get tired of my dear baby brother?"

My eyebrows shoot up at his question and I shoot a glare at Kate for telling Elliot about Christian and me. I doubt he'd be pleased knowing his brother has found out about us, not to mention Kate knows Christian wants to keep things quiet. "You told him?" I hiss at her.

Elliot's smile widens. "Christian did, actually," he informs me, his tone turning kind. "True, it took several devoted hours of my precious time to get him to admit anything, but all I really know is that he likes you. If you're willing to share a bit more, I'm more than willing to listen. I've been waiting for this day since we were teenagers."

I don't know how to respond to that, so I don't. Instead, I focus on the fact that Christian's brother knows anything about us at all and apparently Christian admitted it to him freely enough. It's a relief after spending so much of my time thinking he didn't want anyone in on the secret; now Ros and Elliot, two people closest to Christian, know about us.

Elliot and Kate are watching expectantly, but I have no intention of telling them anything, so with a mysterious smile, I give them a little wave and head into my bedroom.


	15. Chapter 15

The last few days have gone by quickly even without Christian to distract me from... well, everything. There's been no sign of Benjamin, though I see Luke Sawyer whenever I leave my apartment for more than a few minutes. It's been strange having a second shadow, but also comforting to know I have back-up if Benjamin shows his face. As predicted, Kate grilled me endlessly about Christian and I told her enough that she decided we needed to celebrate the loss of my virginity with Chinese food and wine on Saturday night. It was just the two of us and we were able to get caught up on each other's lives again. I hadn't realized how long it had been since we just sat on the couch and talked; it felt good.

Naturally, once the subject of Christian mostly wore itself out, I turned the tables and asked her about Elliot. Apparently after supervising the security upgrades in the apartment, Elliot asked for her phone number and asked her out for the night I spent with Christian, and it went well enough that he came home with her. Since then, Elliot has been here almost every evening aside from Saturday. I've spoken to Christian every night since he's been gone and during the day we exchange emails. It shocks me how easy it's been to talk to him and how much we actually have in common.

He'll be home Monday evening and after telling him that Elliot has been trying to pry information from me about the two of us—not that I've said anything—he told me his mother has informed him of a family dinner later in the week and he invited me to go with him. It took me so long to reply because I was trying to wrap my mind around the fact that he wants to introduce me to his entire family that Christian thought the connection between us had been lost. I'm meeting his family on Friday night and I have never been more nervous about anything, though Elliot has assured me several times that the rest of the Greys will adore me.

Monday at work has gone smoothly. The issue from last week about someone trying to take the distribution center from under GEH's nose has been resolved and GEH won. Whatever fire Christian went to New York to put out has also been taken care of and Ros says he's in a good mood. I've already learned that Christian will try to keep any work-related bad mood away from me whenever possible. It's comforting to know that his good mood this evening will be real rather than masked as he tries to shelter me from anything bad.

Around lunchtime, I decide to take advantage of the rare good weather in Seattle this time of year and head down the street to a little bistro where a lot of GEH employees eat. Of course I've got Sawyer walking a few steps behind me, but I've mostly learned to ignore him and it doesn't bother me as much as it did to begin with. With a sandwich and soup, I take a seat beside the window to enjoy my lunch, noting that Sawyer takes a table not far from mine, his eyes scanning every inch of the place. I've been checking my phone religiously today waiting for a message from Christian. The last I heard from him, last night, he asked me to be at his apartment around eight this evening. He should be home around then and doesn't want to waste time he that could be spent with me laid out beneath him which puts some very delicious images in my head. When I set my phone down, I look up, startled, when somebody sits in the chair across from mine.

My jaw tenses almost to the point of pain when I recognize the person as Elena. Just like the last couple of times that I've seen her, she's dressed head to toe in black, her perfect blonde bob styled without a hair out of place, and her blood red nail polish-tipped fingers rest on the table between us. I throw a glance behind me to find Sawyer halfway out of his chair, but I shake my head, telling him I'm fine. She's here for a reason and obviously sought me out; I'd like to know why.

"Can I help you?" I ask coldly, holding her gaze.

Her lips twitch up on one side in a smirk as she places her designer handbag on the table. "I simply wanted to get another look at the girl who has Christian Grey all a-flutter," she says in a sickly sweet tone that sounds like nails on a chalkboard. "And to get to know you a bit. I'm sure Christian has mentioned that he and I are very close."

"Oh he has," I say, resisting the urge to stab my fork into her hand. "I wonder what Christian's mother would say if she ever found out just how _close_ you and Christian have been over the years. Do you think she'd still want to be friends with the woman who abused her teenage son?"

"Oh, you have spirit, don't you, Anastasia?" Elena asks, looking at me like I'm a cute puppy or something. I want to slap her. "Well, you seem to know quite a lot about me. How well do you know Christian, I wonder?"

I raise an eyebrow at her, reminding myself that unfortunately I don't know Christian nearly as well as I want, not that I will admit that to this woman.

She leans across the table towards me. "Tell me, Anastasia, has he shown you his playroom yet?" she asks in a conspiratorial whisper.

"What?" I ask, caught so off guard that I half-laugh. "I wouldn't have seen you to be the type to play videogames."

Now I'm really amusing her. "Oh, I don't play videogames, Miss Steele—I'm into other games. And so is Christian. You should know that he is not the man he pretends to be with you and someday very soon that pretense is going to crack and you're going to see the real Christian Grey. I very much doubt it's something you could ever handle, so it might be best for you to get out now before you really get hurt." She scrutinizes me for a moment. "But it's too late for that, isn't it?" She tuts regretfully. "You're already in love with him, aren't you? Well, that is a shame. Here's your warning, Anastasia: Christian is not a man who will understand love and romance. It's not him and it never will be. He is a man who has needs that someone like you could never fulfill. You might want to keep that in mind."

I try to form a response to everything she has just said to me, but anger is warring with shock and the feeling of being severely insulted. Before I can, however, Elena is standing from her chair, sending me a wink and glancing over at Sawyer with a smile like they're old friends—he looks back stonily—and she's gone.

"Miss Steele, we should return to Grey House," Sawyer says briskly.

With my mind distracted with the thoughts of that very unpleasant conversation, I don't bother arguing that I haven't finished my lunch—my appetite is long gone. I return to GEH sedately, thinking and dissecting everything Elena just said to me. It's easy enough to convince myself that a lot of what she said was meant with the intent of intimidating me and making me feel unworthy of Christian. I do enough of that on my own; I don't need her assistance. Besides, the invitation to dinner at Christian's parents' house has gone a long way to make me think he really does like me. He told me himself that I would be the first woman he's ever introduced to his family and that means a lot to me.

On the other hand, this "playroom" that Elena mentioned... I have no idea what to make of that. Naturally when I hear playroom, I think of videogames. What else am I supposed to think? What little I've seen of Christian's apartment hasn't led me to believe he spends his free time playing with Legos or collects mint condition in-the-package action figures of comic book characters.

 _There are other "toys," you know_ , says my subconscious, and my mind produces a series of blush-worthy images of things I've never actually seen with my own eyes.

The only way I'm going to find out for sure is to ask Christian and I'll have that opportunity this evening. I'm sure he'll want to know Elena found me on my lunch break anyway, if Sawyer hasn't already sent him a message. I'm back at my desk before I even realize I'm there and I try to focus on my work as best as I can. I'm on an errand for Ros to retrieve a file from Legal a few floors down when I get the shock of my life. Almost the moment I step off the elevator, I hear a familiar voice I hadn't expected to hear until around eight this evening and he doesn't seem happy. For a second, I consider going about my task and talking to Christian when he finishes up whatever he's doing now. Just hearing his voice has me forgetting my lunch break and everything else in my head. I wonder vaguely if he told me the wrong time of his return home intentionally as a surprise, but a minute later, whether he's done it because he doesn't want me to know he's home yet.

He's talking to someone, a woman, and though I can't hear exactly what they're saying, I know exactly to whom he's speaking. It's her—Elena. I move closer, hiding behind a pillar so I can see and hear them. They're at the end of a corridor in relative privacy unless you count my presence. Vaguely, I wonder why they're aren't talking upstairs in Christian's office, but I recall my response the last time Elena was in the building and assume he doesn't want to upset me.

"You need to stay out of it," Christian says quietly. "I've told you a dozen times it's got nothing to do with you."

"Christian, you're deluding yourself if you think this girl can give you what you need," Elena replies just as quietly. "Have you even taken a step back to look at this from an objective point of view? You're throwing away your entire career if you stay with her for any longer than you have."

I wait for Christian to once again mind her own fucking business, but he sighs and leans against a wall, running a hand through his hair. "Look, you're right. I know what I'm risking with Anastasia and I thought maybe with time I could convince her to join the life, that she might actually enjoy it. She has been a distraction and a not a great one at that, but she's sweet and naïve, and I'm having trouble finding a way to end it without hurting her. She still works for my company, for fuck's sake."

Elena touches his arm sympathetically even though I can see the glint of triumph in her eyes, even from this distance. "Well, the sooner you do it, the better. As you said, she's sweet and naïve and I doubt she'd ever report you for sexual harassment and hurt chances of a reconciliation; not that you ever give second chances..."

"I'll take care of it," Christian assures her. "I need to get back to work and if Anastasia sees you here, it's only going to make things worse for both of us."

"Of course," Elena agrees, smiling widely. "You just call me if you need any help or advice."

I don't hear Christian's response as I press myself against the pillar to keep upright. Out of the corner of my eye, I see her lean up to kiss his cheek and she saunters past me without seeing me. Christian remains in the hallway, looking after her as he shakes his head and runs his hand through his hair. His phone rings and he answers it distractedly, talking to whoever is on the other line as he follows Elena's path back to the elevator without even glancing in my direction when normally he seems to always know when I'm present even if he can't see me immediately. The reverse is true for me.

Feeling sick, I bolt for the nearest bathroom and lock myself in a stall, replaying everything I just saw and heard. I don't want to believe he meant what he's just said, but with my earlier conversation with Elena still fresh in my mind, all my doubts that he was telling the truth are long gone.

All I can think right now is that it's all been a lie, even though he said he would never lie to me. All the secrets he's keeping that he doesn't want to share are clearly something that is still weighing on his mind and if Elena was right, I couldn't possibly satisfy him if he ever shared it with me.

The thought of going back upstairs knowing he's up there, probably waiting for me, is too much and the last thing either of us needs is me causing a scene in the middle of our workday. Instead I make a quick decision and send Ros a text telling her I'm not feeling well, that I'm going home, and I'll call her later. Making certain my legs will support my weight, and grateful that I grabbed my purse to go on this little errand so I could grab cup of tea from the cafeteria, I head straight towards for the parking garage, somehow avoiding being seen by Sawyer.

I consider going home, but I know that when Kate walks through the door and sees my face, I'll have to tell her everything and I still need answers, so instead, I drive to Escala. When I enter the apartment, Mrs. Jones is in the kitchen and spots me, frowning when she gets a look at my expression—I'm sure I look dazed and heartbroken. She asks if I want a glass of wine, I accept the offer, and take the glass out onto the balcony. I have no doubt that if Christian doesn't yet know that I'm here and not at work where he expected me to be, Mrs. Jones will inform him. It's probably a part of her contract, to report unscheduled visits from women who apparently mean nothing to Christian.

In the next hour, Mrs. Jones brings me the bottle of wine after she came to see if I wanted something to eat and has left me alone since then, allowing me to think about what is going to happen when Christian finally finds me. I still don't have any answers when I hear his murmured voice from what I think might be the kitchen and I blame the wine for making me debate just ignoring this issue and dragging him to his bedroom.

"There you are," Christian says in a sultry voice, leaning down to wrap his arms around my shoulders and pressing his lips to my neck. "I was hoping to see you at work, but Ros said you weren't feeling well. Not long after that, Sawyer said you came here instead of your apartment and I had to fight to not follow you."

"Hmm," I murmur, suddenly recalling why I left GEH.

Christian's body tenses. "Are you all right? Clearly you aren't sick since you have apparently had most of a bottle of wine since you've been here." He sounds so disapproving of my daytime drunkenness that I nearly laugh. "Ana, what's wrong?" He sits in the chair beside me, frowning deeply when he looks at my face.

"What's a playroom?" I blurt out, setting my wine glass on the table between us, trying hard to focus on his face.

He pales instantly and is on high alert. "What?" he whispers. "Where did you hear that term?"

"I was at lunch today, Sawyer was sitting nearby, and I got an unexpected visit from your friend Elena." His panic immediately turns to anger. "Anyway, among all the things she said to me, she asked if you had shown me your playroom yet."

"Is that so," he says tightly. "I fucking told her..."

I hold back my response of _yes, I know what you fucking told her_ , but only just. One issue at a time. "So are you going to tell me?"

He looks back at me warily. "Ana..." he says shaking his head. "Do we have to do this now? I was hoping we could make up for three days' worth of missed time. I missed you."

As much as I want to tell him that I missed him, too, because I did, and that no, we don't have to do this now, I think we do. "Yes, we do," I say with as much conviction as I can muster.

Christian looks anxious. This must be really bad... "It doesn't have to concern you."

"I'm getting a little tired of hearing you tell me that," I say honestly, my bravery growing by the moment. "I'm not a child. Christian, you want me to trust you? This is how you do that."

He studies me and I can almost see him asking himself whether I'm too drunk to deal with this. The truth is that I've never sobered up so quickly in my life. "I really don't think we're ready for this, but okay," he says with a strange mixture of resignation and determination. He stands, pulling me up to my feet and once he makes sure I'm steady, he leads me back into the apartment, then up the staircase where I've never been. We reached a typical-looking door at the top and stop, and he removes his keys from his pocket.

"Are you sure you want to see this?" he says uneasily. "I promise you I don't want this anymore, Ana. I've been spending the last few days thinking and..."

"I need to see this," I interrupt to correct him. "Open the damn door, Christian."

Jaw tensed, he does as he's ordered and shoves open the door, standing back so I can walk through the door first. He steps in behind me, closes the door again, and switches on a light. I nearly stumble backwards when I see what is revealed when he does so. Playroom must be code for sex dungeon because everywhere I look, I see things that would never be found outside a brothel or sex club, not that I've ever been to either...

"What is this?" I whisper, looking around the room. There is a huge bed against one wall, a strange looking cross on another, a chest of drawers along another, and a wall of implements including canes, belts, riding crops, and other things I don't know the names of.

"It's my playroom," Christian says softly. I know he's still standing by the door, keeping his distance from me. "It's something I've done since I was fifteen when Elena Lincoln introduced me to her lifestyle."

"And you do this with... her?" I ask incredulously.

He scoffs. "No, of course not, not for about seven years," he answers. "No, since then I've done it with other women involved in the lifestyle."

"So what, you tie them up and beat the shit out of them?"

His sigh sounds like one of frustration. "That isn't what it's about, Ana. It's a release, sexually, physically, and emotionally. It's the reason I didn't land myself in prison as a teenager or worse. It taught me control—of myself, of my world, of my life."

"So you've done this all these years, and now all of a sudden, you don't want it anymore?" I ask, turning to him incredulously. "Why?"

"Because it doesn't work for me anymore," he says softly, pushing off the wall and approaching me, still keeping several feet between us. "When you catch yourself in a routine like mine, at some point, it catches up to you, and for me it took meeting you to realize the rut I was in. I need control and I probably always will, and yes, I did consider bringing you into this room in the hopes that you might be willing to try, but when I learned about Reese, I knew it wouldn't be a good idea. You had enough bad in your life; I didn't want to drag you into something dark and watch you lose yourself the way I did. I told you it doesn't matter to me what is in this room. It's my past and that is how I want it."

Briefly, his words have the effect of making me forget why I'm day-drunk in the apartment of my secret, wealthy, CEO not-quite boyfriend. "Is that how you want it?" I ask him. "Because that's not really how it sounded earlier when I heard you talking to Elena near the legal department."

He stumbles back a few steps as though I've slapped him and for a second, I worry his sudden paleness means he's having a heart attack or something. "What are you talking about?" he asks, worried.

"I mean, I went down there to get something for Ros and I thought I heard your voice, so I went looking. I was hiding behind a pillar while you told her that I'm nothing more than a distraction and that you're just trying to find a way to let me go gently so I don't cause trouble for you at work."

"No," he whispers, eyes wide. "Ana, that was not what it sounded like."

My eyes widen. "Oh? So you're seeing somebody else named Anastasia and she also works for you? Sounds unlikely, Christian." Despite the venom in my words, I'm shocked at how calmly I'm speaking. Apparently seeing this room has put everything into perspective for me. Which means that Elena is right, that I can't give him what he needs because I really don't think I could ever let him use any of this stuff on me.

"Why were you eavesdropping?" he says, sounding angry.

I actually laugh. "Seriously? Christian, you were in the middle of a public building; anybody could have heard. Though I'm glad it was me, because at least this way no one will know that I was sleeping with the CEO, however briefly it might have been."

I wait a moment until realization strikes him. "No," he breathes, this time looking like I just ripped out his heart. It would be fitting, since I'm ripping out my own at the moment. "Ana, please don't go. I can explain everything, just give me a chance."

"I did," I tell him. "And I think we were both right from the beginning—this was always a bad idea and it's probably best to end it before it gets any worse."

He only stares at me for several long moments as he tries to come up with something to say. When I walk past him to get to the door, he snaps out of his daze. "Don't run. Ana, you said you wouldn't run when I told you about what I did before I met you."

"I know," I say honestly and calmly. "And that's not why I'm leaving. I'm leaving because apparently this whole arrangement between us is bullshit and I don't want to distract you from whatever it is you really want to do with your life."

He calls my name several times as I make my way down the stairs, texting Kate on my way. I called her earlier and asked her to be near Escala in case I needed a ride home since I've had way too much to drink. I considered asking Taylor or Sawyer to drive me, but I don't want to deal with Christian anymore than I have to. I'm sure once I get out of the apartment what I'm doing will hit and I'll be a complete mess; I don't want them to witness that and report back to him.

As I'm stepping into the elevator, Christian catches up to me. "Ana, please don't do leave," he begs, looking lost and scared, though I couldn't imagine why that would be. "I can fix this."

I shake my head. "No, you can't," I say quietly, meeting his gaze for what I think will be the last time. "Goodbye, Christian."

He falls back a few steps as the door closes and I think I hear him say, "Ana, goodbye," before his apartment disappears completely from view.

* * *

 **A/N:** Yes, I know. Horrible place to leave them, but there is plenty of story left, so be rest assured this isn't the end. Thanks to everyone who has read/reviewed/PMed. More soon!


	16. Chapter 16

It's been four days since I last saw Christian Grey which since, against my better judgment, I still work for his company, is strange. After an entire evening of shutting down every time Kate brought up his name and telling me that whatever happened, I'm better off without him, I woke up the next morning feeling determined despite the migraine I had. I showered, dressed, and went to work with the intention of handing in my resignation to Ros. I was a little surprised Christian wasn't there, but I decided it was a good thing; I'd only change my mind if I saw him. But when I got to Ros's office, handed her my letter of resignation, and told her I'm accepting an internship at Seattle Independent Publishing, she managed to talk me out of it. She knew almost immediately that my decision was based on something that happened in my private life and I know she felt bad for me, but she refused to accept me leaving the company altogether. Instead she suggested a transfer to a different department even though she really didn't want to lose me.

Within the hour, she was walking me four floors down to meet my new supervisor in Public Relations. The look I gave Ros when she told me where I was going still makes her laugh whenever I see her, but she told me it's better to be among the lions when shit hits the fan. I'm fairly certain she mixed up at least two metaphors, but I didn't call her on it because she was treating me normally despite the fact that I know I look miserable and heartbroken—because that is exactly how I feel.

The only intern who has lasted in the public relations department is Adam Bishop. I faintly recall seeing him on my very first day here, but he didn't make much of an impression on me. He seems to be the kind of guy who hangs back and watches how things unfold around him, which I suppose is good in a department like this when sometimes silence is the answer to a potential public relations nightmare. I was immediately partnered with him because his immediate boss was out of the building at the time and Adam had already proven himself to the rest of the team.

I liked him immediately. In spite of what could charitably be called a rough mood, he actually manages to make me smile by lunchtime and laugh by the time he's dragging me for a mid-afternoon caffeine emergency run. I'd be a little more concerned about having another man trying to express interest in me if he wasn't always talking about his boyfriend Neil. And really, the only reason I'd be concerned is because I don't want to risk making myself believe that someone could _actually_ be interested in me.

"Okay, I have spent the last four days glancing over to find you looking like your damn dog died," Adam says quietly, leaning against my desk. "And I don't give a shit that you keep telling the other interns that you have plans every work; I'm taking you out for a drink and you're going to tell me why you look so miserable."

I raise an eyebrow at him. "Is that so?" I question.

"It is, so grab your stuff, turn off that computer, and let's go drink ourselves under a table or two."

I snort a laugh. "I'm not a huge drinker," I say wryly. Monday night still rings clearly in my head and has left a bitter taste in my mouth whenever I think of drinking.

"You are tonight," he decides.

Realizing he's not going to allow me to decline his offer and deciding it will be better than going home and watching Kate and Elliot attached at the lips all night, I reluctantly agree. Adam beams, leading me towards the elevators along with all the other GEH employees eager to start their weekend. On the ground floor, we flood out and Adam links his arm with mine, dragging me towards the doors. Something catches my eye and I glance over, almost stumbling when I see Christian standing at the front desk talking to a group of people and he sees me, too. At first I think the look on his face is one that suggests he's pleased to finally see me, but his eyes dart past me to Adam and they narrow dangerously. Clearly he doesn't like seeing me on the arm of another man. Pointedly, I turn away from him and try to listen to whatever Adam is telling me.

We walk a block or so down the street to a little bar that is surprisingly quiet and empty for a Friday evening, and Adam directs me to a booth towards the back while he grabs drinks. While he's gone, my mind reverts to its default setting: Christian Grey. It starts with that look he gave me as I walked past him and hope burns for about a millisecond as I wonder whether it might have been fueled by jealousy. Naturally, I go back to what I overheard Christian telling Elena that day in the hall and I remember what he made me feel, what he made me believe that _he_ felt. He kept telling me that during the night I spent with him that he's never felt the way he has with anybody else, but if that were true, he would have simply told Elena to go fuck herself, defended me, and walked away.

Then there's his playroom. A sex dungeon filled with implements that he was introduced to when he was a fifteen-year-old child. He spent six years with that woman; it's not surprising that she managed to convince him that the only way he could be successful is to do exactly as she says he should. That's almost enough of a reason for me to want to risk going back to Escala and talk to him. I won't, of course; I feel enough like a moron as it is falling for his charm in the first place. Regardless, I also heard Elena say Christian doesn't give second chances.

In moments of weakness, I also think about what Elena said to me at the café that day about how I've already fallen for Christian. I've been fighting not to think too hard about it because until she actually said it, I didn't even realize it myself. But it's true; I somehow fell in love with Christian Grey.

A bottle of beer is dropped onto the table in front of me and Adam slides into the booth across from me. "Now that I've paid for your drink, you're going to tell me what asshole man put that look on your face," he says bluntly.

I raise an eyebrow, taking a sip from the bottle to avoid answering immediately. "What makes you think a man did it?" I ask.

He huffs a laugh. "Sweetie, I've seen heartbreak enough in the mirror to recognize the symptoms when I see them," he says pointedly. "So?"

I sigh. For some reason I'm not nearly as hesitant to talk to Adam about this, even if I have no intention of sharing the details, like the identity of the man in question. "It's complicated," I mutter, slumping against the booth.

"When is it not?" he replies.

I shrug. "I wouldn't know. He was my first...boyfriend," if I can even call him that, "and it turns out he wasn't really who I thought he was, who I wanted him to be."

Adam's face scrunches in sympathy. "That happens on occasion, though it's unfortunate that you get one on your first go," he says quietly. "You must have really liked him if he hurt you that much."

I nod. "I guess," I whisper, playing with the label on the bottle. "Basically, he has this friend who has her claws so deep into him that she has him convinced he couldn't be happy with me. I overheard a conversation between them not long ago and she was trying to convince him I'm no good and that he needed to break up with me. He then told her that I'm nothing but a distraction and the only reason he hasn't ended things before now was because he didn't want to hurt my feelings."

"Wow," Adam says, wide-eyed. "That's rough. Are you sure he meant it, though? Maybe he was just saying it because he wanted his friend to back off."

"Maybe, but I called him out on it and left, and I haven't seen or heard from him since," I say bitterly. "If he didn't mean it, why would he keep staying away?"

"Because you're pissed and he knows there is reason for you to be pissed," Adam says immediately. "Men are idiots, Ana. We do things without thinking them through all the way and we don't always know what to do to fix it. If he's got any brain whatsoever, he'll show up before long."

"I'm not sure I want him to show up," I admit quietly. "When I said it's complicated, it's so complicated that I can't even tell you what makes it complicated. I thought at first it was worth all the uncertainty and risk or whatever, but everything recently has been so up and down that I'm not sure it really was. Besides, from what I found out about him, his friend was right; I'm not right for him. I think he wants something I'm not willing to give him."

He cocks his head at me in a way that is so reminiscent of Christian that I have to take a large gulp of beer to distract myself from crying. "So it's somebody at work?" he says thoughtfully.

The bottle of beer slips from my fingers but Adam's quick reflexes keep it from hitting the table and making a huge mess. "Shit, sorry," I mutter, reaching for a napkin on the table to help him mop up the few droplets that hit his hand. "I never said anything about work." I wonder if my voice is actually as panicky as I think it might be.

He scoffs. "Please, Ana, it's obvious," he says. "Since we started at GEH, and you were assigned to work with Ros Bailey, and every other intern hated you for it, you've always been in a good mood when I've seen you. Now all of a sudden you're transferring departments and you look like this," he gestures at me. "Besides, our memories aren't that bad, especially in PR; they might not say it out loud, but everyone remembers that little article and photo of you and Grey together. He might have fought tooth and nail to ensure it didn't spread like wildfire, but even he doesn't have the power to wipe our memories."

I drop my head into my hands and a second later, Adam peels one hand from my face and smiles at me. "It's okay, your secret is safe with me," he promises me quietly. "I'm not a huge fan of rumors anyway, though I did hear about the head of the legal department getting tossed out on his ass because he said something to you about it. Was that true?"

"Thought you weren't a huge fan of rumors?" I ask dryly. "He was an asshole anyway. He said a lot of stupid things to a lot of people."

"I've heard that, too," Adam says. "Well, I won't push you for details, however curious I am regarding that particular man, but I will say he's an idiot for letting you walk away."

Sighing, I drain my beer bottle. "I think I need something stronger," I say.

"I'll get it," Adam replies, slipping out of the booth.

A couple of hours later, I'm happily buzzed and playing pool with Adam and a group of his friends all of whom I liked the moment I met them. They've done wonders to distract me from thinking about Christian too much, though around eight o'clock I nearly choked on my beer because I swore I saw Christian leaning against the bar, just watching me. Once I got through my coughing fit, I looked back and he wasn't there.

"Ana, let's see how bad you are at darts," Adam calls.

I look once more at the Christian-free bar and turn away.

* * *

On Saturday morning, wake up feeling like absolute hell. My mouth tastes like a cotton ball soaked in cheap tequila and there is a marching band making its way through my skull. Wincing at the sunlight entering my bedroom window, I cover my face with my pillow and try to remember last night. My last clear memory is Adam loading me into a cab to drive me home and the realization that apparently Kate and Elliot weren't particularly concerned with my absence if the noise coming from Kate's room was any indication. There's a vague memory of going into my bedroom and collapsing into my desk chair where I grabbed the mail Kate left for me. On the bottom of the stack was the acceptance letter from SIP and I remember staring at it for a minute and then...

I groan out loud. And then I picked up my phone and called Christian.

* * *

 _I'm pacing as well as I can in my inebriated state as my call connects and the line rings twice before I hear his voice._

" _Ana?" He sounds surprised and relieved, and it only pisses me off and cements my decision all the more. "Are you okay?"_

 _Rolling my eyes, I drop to the edge of my bed. "I am perfect, Christian," I say, trying not to slur my words and not caring that I don't succeed. "I'd ask how you are, but to be honest, I don't really care."_

 _He's quiet for a moment. "Jesus, Ana, are you drunk?" he asks incredulously._

" _That is none of your concern, Mr. Grey," I say as primly as I can manage._

 _He sighs. "I just want to know that you're safe," he says quietly._

" _Well, I am," I snap. "And there is something I need to say to you, so for once, don't distract me with your pretty words and just listen to me."_

 _He doesn't respond and I remove the phone from my ear to check whether the connection was lost. "I'm trying not to distract you with my pretty words," he says dryly. "The floor is yours, Miss Steele."_

 _Oh, good... I push to my feet again having practiced this speech in my head for four days even though I didn't think I'd actually have the nerve to say them out loud. "I wanted to apologize to you, Mr. Grey," I begin._

 _I can hear his stunned silence. "Ana, what could you possibly have to apologize about?" he asks._

" _Quite a lot from my point of view," I answer. "I just wanted to say how sorry I am that I couldn't be a good enough distraction for you. Maybe if I wasn't some innocent virgin or if I didn't have the baggage of having a stalker, you would have been more interested in what little I could offer or maybe you'd have offered to bring me into your Red Room of Pain."_

 _He sputters at my words. "Ana, that isn't..." I don't know which part he's going to argue about—what I said about the two of us or about his playroom. "Look, get some sleep. We should talk tomorrow; there are things you don't understand."_

" _Oh, I understand plenty, Mr. Grey. I understand that I took a really stupid risk, made all the wrong decisions, and did things that I regret."_

 _The sharp intake of breath I hear on the other line nearly stops my rant. But I'm not done..._

" _I don't know what it is you're looking for in your life, Mr. Grey, but I wholeheartedly hope you find it and that you don't rip her apart, too, though given all that stuff you showed me, I'm not entirely sure that's off the cards." I hear his frustrated growl. "Goodbye, Mr. Grey."_

 _Just before I hit the_ end _button, I lift the phone back to my ear, still able to hear Christian breathing on the other end. "Oh, and I quit."_

* * *

"Oh, fuck," I groan into my pillow at the memory. Not only did I say a lot of things I don't think I actually meant to Christian, but I quit my job. This is what happens when I drink; I think I'll avoid doing it for the foreseeable future.

There's a soft knock on my door and Kate pokes her head around. "Oh good, you are alive," she says brightly. "We did wonder."

I remove the pillow from my face and squint at my best friend. "We?" I rasp.

"Yes, we... Elliot's here—he's making breakfast. We were woken up at the crack of dawn by a phone call from Elliot's brother wanting to know if you were home. He apparently sounded upset. Elliot offered to bring the phone in to you, but Christian said no, to let you sleep off your hangover. How drunk did you get?" she asks.

"Enough that I drunk-dialed my boss/ex, said some really horrible things to him, and quit my job."

Kate looks impressed. "Even I haven't been that drunk," she says with awe. I roll my eyes at her, immediately regretting the movement; it only makes the marching band play louder. "Go run yourself through a hot shower and come join us for a nice greasy breakfast that will soak up that booze."

I grunt something and wave her away. Once she's gone, I reach for my cell phone and see a text message from Christian waiting for me:

 **I hope you're feeling all**

 **right this morning. I**

 **refuse to accept your**

 **resignation via drunken**

 **phone call. If you really**

 **want to quit, you'll have to**

 **speak to me. We still have**

 **a lot to discuss. –C**

I drop my phone back on my bedside table, too mortified to even respond to him right now. The only good news is that I apparently still have a job unless I find enough nerve to go talk to him. Cowardly though it is I'm not sure I'll be able to face him for a month much less Monday morning.

Deciding it's best to just get on with my day before deciding what to do in terms of Christian, I do as Kate suggested and get in the shower. Out in the apartment, I hear quiet conversation and the closer I get to the kitchen, I suspect my best friend is talking to her boyfriend about me. My theory is confirmed when their conversation breaks off immediately when they see me, giving me huge we-weren't-talking-about-you smiles.

"Morning, Ana!" Elliot says cheerfully. "Breakfast?"

I smile tightly at them and sit at the table where Kate has already very thoughtfully made me a cup of tea. Just before Elliot tries to sit at the table with Kate and me, his phone rings. He glances at the display, then at me, and gets up from the table and retreats to Kate's bedroom to answer his call. I roll my eyes at the thought that it might be Christian calling to check up on me.

"So what are you going to do on Monday?" Kate asks as we begin to eat.

"I'm going to work," I inform her, feeling her surprised gaze on my face. "Christian sent me a text to say he wouldn't accept my resignation through a drunken phone call and the only way he would accept it is if I go talk to him."

"And you're not going to do that?" she checks cautiously.

I shrug. "Not today," I say dully. "At some point I'm sure I'll have to see him and when I do, I'll have to apologize for what I said to him, but I'm not sure what difference it will make."

"Hmm," Kate hums into her coffee.

"What?" I ask, getting the impression she's got more to say on the subject but doesn't want to make things worse for me.

She sighs, glancing towards her bedroom where we can just see Elliot pacing past the open door. "Well, Elliot invited me to have dinner with his family last night, and Christian was there," she begins.

I look down at my plate of food. Christian invited me, too, and I would have been the first girl he introduced to his family. I'm surprised at how disappointed I feel at the thought that I missed it. "Okay," I prompt her. "How was he?" I try to make it sound like I don't care, even though I do—very much.

"Distracted," she answers immediately. "I don't think he wanted to be there, but he felt obligated to spend time with his family—that's what Elliot said, anyway. Over dinner, Grace, their mom, asked me about you."

I choke on my tea. "Why?" I say, coughing.

"Not specifically about you; about my roommate. The second I said your name, Christian knocked over his wine glass," she says. "Elliot said he couldn't remember him ever being that clumsy, even when they were little kids. And I know you don't want to go into detail about why you left him, but from what I could tell, he isn't over it. He looked miserable, Ana."

Our conversation is cut short when Elliot returns, sighing. "I need to take off after breakfast," he tells Kate regretfully. "It looks like someone tried to break into Grey House last night and destroyed some doors and windows, and Christian thinks they might have somehow fucked with the elevators."

"What?" I gasp, shocked. "What about security?"

"They were doing rounds several floors up. Christian suspects whoever it was might have been casing the joint for a few weeks now and memorizing the security team's patrol patterns. By the time they were alerted that something was wrong, the person was gone. They're pulling camera footage now," Elliot reports.

I feel the blood drain from my face as I exchange a look with Kate, the same thought going through our minds: What's the possibility that the person who got into GEH is the one with whom I've been trying to avoid any chance interactions? If Christian is right and this person was watching Grey House for a few weeks, that coincides with when I started there and when I started seeing Benjamin Reese. This could be my fault... And what the hell would he have been doing to the elevators?

* * *

On Sunday morning, Kate and I decide to curl up on the couch and have a movie marathon. We're halfway through the ridiculous romantic comedy she picked out and I suddenly wish she had chosen anything else. A week ago, this was one of my favorites and I don't know if it's recent experience, but I just don't see how the girl could forgive the guy for misleading her for forty minutes of the movie. There is a part of me that wishes all of life's problems could be neatly solved with some sort of romantic gesture, but they can't and really, what gesture could make a person forgive being called a distraction after they believed something good was finally starting to happen to them?

Kate and I jump a foot off the couch when somebody begins pounding on the door.

"What the fuck?" Kate demands, pausing the movie and looking between the door and me. She tosses aside her blanket and climbs off the couch as the pounding continues.

"Kate, wait!" I say suddenly, reaching for my phone even as I'm getting up to stop her. "It could be Benjamin."

She raises an eyebrow. "Good, I hope it is; I've been dying to get him on a first name basis with my baseball bat." She reaches around the corner of the kitchen entrance to grab the bat we started stashing there when Benjamin started showing up again, just in case.

I'm dialing 911 and am about to press the send key when Kate huffs and turns to me. "It's not Benny," she says, looking relieved and amused. "It's Christian."

My eyes widen and I want to protest when she begins unlocking the door, but the words are stuck in my throat. A second later, I catch a glimpse of Christian.

"Where is she?" he demands and I wonder if I'm imagining if I'm the sheer panic in his voice. Before Kate can even reply, he's pushing open the door with enough force that the doorknob puts a hole in the wall.

"Dude, what the hell?" Kate shouts. "What is wrong with you?"

He doesn't answer because he's staring at me with relief so strong it nearly knocks me backwards. "Oh, thank God," he breathes.

"Christian, what's wrong?" I ask, taking in the black lines beneath his eyes, the stubble on his jaw as though he hasn't shaved for days, and how exhausted he sounds.

He holds up a shaking finger, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his vibrating phone. "Taylor, she's here," he says quietly, his eyes not leaving mine. "She's safe."

Kate and I exchange a confused glance. Why wouldn't I be safe?

"No, I want security in place immediately. Get Welch to check the CCTV and find out how the fuck this happened." He pauses a moment and his eyes close briefly as though he's being told something unpleasant. "I'm not sure. I'll broach the subject."

After ending his call, Christian returns to staring at me.

"Why wouldn't I be safe?" I ask him quietly.

Regret fills his expression though I think there might be a hint of happiness—from seeing me? It seems impossible; it's been radio silence between us for days. But there is also something else in his eyes, something I can't identify.

"Can we sit?" he asks quietly.

I lead him over to the couch and Kate follows. Christian drops down on the couch and I sit beside him, waiting for an explanation of his strange behavior. Rather than answering immediately, he takes several breaths and runs his hands through his hair. "I apologize for startling you, and for your wall—I'll pay for it, of course."

"Forget the wall," I say, knowing he's stalling for time. "You came in here like a bat out of hell—we thought you were Benjamin."

He winces. "Well, he is the reason I'm here," he replies darkly. Sighing, he leans back and turns slightly to look at me. "Friday night there was an attempted break-in at Grey House. Several windows were broken and the suspect tried to hack into the elevator—we think he was trying to reach the twentieth floor, possibly to gain access to my office."

"We know about the break-in," I interject quietly. He looks at me questioningly. "Elliot was here yesterday morning and told us."

Christian rolls his eyes. "Of course he did," he mutters.

"Who was it?" Kate asks.

"Benjamin Reese," Christian answers, glancing briefly at her. "It was a half-assed break-in attempt and we don't think it was carelessness that didn't get him past the first floor as much as a desire for us to know he's around. He didn't bother trying to hide his appearance. His fingerprints were everywhere. But by the time Grey House security could get down to the ground floor, he was long gone. The police are still hunting him down, but until this morning, he could have left the state for all we knew."

"Why, what happened this morning?" I ask cautiously.

Reaching into his jacket pocket, Christian removes what looks like a photograph though he doesn't hand it to me immediately. "This morning, I went into the office to do some work, hoping for a distraction. There was an envelope on my desk with this in it."

I reluctantly take the photo and gasp when I realize what it is. It's me, in my bed and fast asleep. And I'm almost certain it was taken last night. I turn the photo over and read the message written in Benjamin's handwriting: _She'll never be yours, Grey._

"We're still trying to figure out how it got into my office," Christian continues softly. "Best guess is Andrea dropped by last night, found it on her desk, and tossed it onto mine. Ana, I thought he had you."

I'm still focused on how the fuck Benjamin got into our apartment what with our unbreakable windows and locks, brand-new door, and state-of-the-art security system.

"This is so fucking creepy," Kate whispers, shaking her head as she looks at the photo. "When was this taken?"

I swallow hard. "Last night," I answer.

"What?" Christian and Kate say in unison.

"Are you sure?" Christian asks.

I nod, taking the photo from Kate and pointing out the book I grabbed to read before bed last night. "I haven't read that book for months. I started it again last night hoping it would put me to sleep."

"You're not sleeping?" Christian asks quietly, studying my closely.

I look at him, uncertain how to respond or even why that is his main concern at the moment. "How the hell would he have even gotten in?" Kate asks broodingly. "The windows are locked; the alarm wasn't tripped... We need to call the police."

"They've already been notified," Christian tells her. "They should be here along with Taylor shortly." He turns back to me with a hesitant expression. "Look, I know I'm not your favorite person in the world right now, but you're not safe here, Anastasia. Hell, you're probably not safe at GEH. But until this blows over or until this fucker is caught, I'd like you to stay with me. You and Kate, if she wants."

Still reeling from the last five minutes, I don't have a response. Thankfully I'm saved by another knock on the door. Christian gets up immediately and strides to the door, looking through the peephole. Kate moves to sit beside me, taking my hand in a show of comfort. As he promised, two officers from Seattle PD enter the apartment with Taylor not far behind them. We spend several minutes explaining the situation and once Christian is finished with his part of things, he joins Taylor near the kitchen where they converse quietly, occasionally glancing over at me.

"Maybe you ought to go stay with Christian for a bit," Kate suggests hesitantly. "I'm sure I could stay with Elliot."

"Is that really a good idea?" I ask her. "Not you staying with Elliot, but Christian and me."

She gives me a look. "This isn't a game, Ana," she whispers harshly. "It's one thing for him to show up wherever you are and staring at you, but we now have physical proof that he's been in the apartment watching you sleep. He's graduated from creepy lovesick stalker to fucking psychopath. He broke into Christian Grey's building and got out without being caught. Ana, what if he comes back some night and does a hell of a lot more than just stare at you while you sleep?"

The ridiculously stubborn part of me wants to put my foot down and declare that I won't be chased out of my home, but I know that between Kate and Christian, whatever half-assed fight I put up will be pointless. I look over at Christian again to find him looking right back wearing that emotion I can't quite put my finger on. He's right; I'm not safe here and what happened between us last week pales in comparison to what's happening right now. And if I'm being honest, Benjamin Reese scares the shit out of me and I somehow know instinctively that Christian will keep me safe and help me see this through regardless of whatever is happening between us.

"Fine," I tell Kate quietly. "I'll go stay with Christian."


	17. Chapter 17

"Make yourself at home," Christian says quietly as we enter his apartment. "I asked Gail to prepare the guest room near my room. If you need anything, please let me know."

"Gail?" I ask with a raised eyebrow.

"Mrs. Jones," he explains. "Come, I'll show you to your room so you can get settled."

I sigh but do as I'm told, still wondering if it might be better to take my chances with Benjamin than suffer through the awkward tense silence between Christian and me. He's hardly said a word to me since I told him I'd stay at his place for a while. He's preoccupied and if I didn't know any better, he's trying not to make things worse between us. I know it's my fault; I'm the one who left and the only communication between us has been my drunken call to him on Friday night and the text he sent the next morning. I wonder why he's even doing this; he made it perfectly clear that I mean nothing to him and yet here he is panicking about my safety.

The guest room is rather sparsely furnished, much like the rest of the house, but looks comfortable enough. "The bathroom is fully stocked, but if you forgot something, I'll send Taylor out for it," he says standing just outside the door while I examine my new surroundings. When he shifts, I turn to look at him. "I, um, need to get some work done," he says apologetically. "I shouldn't be long, but..."

"It's fine," I assure him. "I need to call my dad anyway."

He nods and begins to turn around to leave and I'm surprised when I realize I don't want him to leave. "Christian, wait," I call out.

He turns back hopefully.

Knotting my fingers together in an attempt to keep from touching him, I move closer to the door. "Why are you doing this?" I ask softly.

"What do you mean?" he asks, frowning.

I sigh. "Why are you so concerned about me? It's not actually your concern and considering what happened the last time we were in a room together, I figured you would have moved on."

"I'm concerned because I care about you, Anastasia," he says, leaning against the doorframe. "I know you left me because I fucked up, but that doesn't mean I won't worry about you. What I feel for you... I've never felt it before and I can't explain it. All week my therapist has been pushing me to figure it out and I just can't." He shrugs. "The second I heard about the break-in and saw the camera footage, I knew I needed to find some way to keep you safe because if something happens to you, I don't know what it will do to me."

"I'm sorry," I whisper.

"Whatever for?" he asks bewildered.

"Grey House," I mutter, unable to meet his gaze. "If not for me, you wouldn't even be dealing with a break-in and now for whatever reasons, you feel obligated to have me here."

His mouth drops open. " _Obligated_?" he repeats incredulously. "There is no obligation involved. I want you here or you wouldn't be. As for Grey House, that's not your fault. You don't deserve this, Anastasia. He's trying to make you afraid of him, to make you believe you're not safe."

"Well, he's succeeding spectacularly on both counts," I murmur bitterly.

"You're safe here," he insists softly, emphatically. "I'm not going to let that bastard anywhere near you. Do you understand?"

I want to nod, but the truth is I don't understand. I don't understand why he's being so kind to me. I don't understand why I seem to be different than all the other women he's known. I don't understand why I've fallen for him in the first place. And I'll never understand why Benjamin Reese is so hell bent on making my life miserable. Nevertheless, when Christian is still watching me expectantly, I smile tightly and even though neither of us actually believes that I get it, it seems to be enough for Christian's peace of mind, at least for the time being.

With one last glance at me, Christian heads into his study and I'm left all on my own. I have no idea how long this can go on while we're tiptoeing around each other and while there is clearly at least a modicum of attraction between us, however much we try to hide it. After unpacking the things I've brought with me—Christian assured me we could go back if there is anything else I need—I take myself on a self-guided tour of the apartment. He did say to make myself at home, after all.

Upstairs, I can hear Christian's low murmuring voice and assume he's on the phone so at least I'll have a few minutes to snoop around. One of the first doors I open turns out to be a TV room complete with every current videogame system, a large wraparound couch, and a wall full of what I wouldn't be surprised to learn is every single DVD available and probably a few that haven't been released yet. I don't imagine Christian spends much time in this room; he just doesn't seem to be the kick back and relax type. Though from what I have seen, when he does relax, it takes years off of him. I'm sure all the recent stress regarding Benjamin hasn't helped matters.

The next door I find shocks me immediately upon opening it. It's a library and one of the best stocked private libraries I've ever laid eyes on. Slowly I make my way through the room, running my fingers along the spines of several books that I suspect might be first editions. I almost drop to the ground when I find several Thomas Hardy books. Carefully to avoid destroying Christian's possessions, I pull a copy of _Tess_ off the shelf and turn the thin pages like it's something ancient and precious. Well, to me it is. I turn around to look for a chair and nearly drop the book when I find Christian at the open door of the library.

"Sorry," I say quietly. "I was just looking around."

He smiles mysteriously. "Yes, I can see that," he murmurs, entering the room to join me. "I did tell you to make yourself at home." He looks around the room with a slight frown. "I don't get in here as much as I'd like. When I was younger, I read all the time, but then I was in trouble and sent to my room quite often, and I had nothing else to do."

"You in trouble?" I ask, raising an eyebrow. "I don't believe that in the slightest."

Gray eyes narrow on me and his lips twitch. "Oh, the stories I could tell you, Miss Steele," he says wryly. "So what did you find?"

I show him the cover and he nods. "That's a good one," he says thoughtfully. "I take it you studied Thomas Hardy in college?"

I nod. "He's one of my favorites," I explain, waving the book a little. "And this one is my favorite."

"Keep it," he says quietly.

"What?" I say, surprised.

He shrugs. "If it's your favorite, I want you to have it," he explains. "Like I said, I don't get in here often and to be honest, most of these books were purchased for investment reasons. It should belong to someone who will actually cherish it."

"Christian, I can't," I whisper, torn.

"Sure you can," he says matter-of-factly. "If there are any others you want, take them."

I look down at the book—a first edition that I'm certain would sell for an obscene amount at auction—and smile. "Thank you, Christian," I whisper.

"You're more than welcome, Anastasia." For a second, I think he might reach out and touch me, but he refrains. "It's nearly dinnertime; are you hungry?"

 _Not really,_ I want to say. _Not when you're around._ "Sure, I guess," I answer.

"I sent Taylor out for Chinese," he says briskly, stepping back pointedly. "And while I know you're here for different reasons, I was hoping we could talk."

That didn't take long. I doubt I'll be able to avoid this for long so I agree with his suggestion. He looks moderately relieved, but about as nervous as I feel at the thought of having this conversation. "So you play pool?" I ask, my eyes finding the pool table I looked right past when I entered the room.

Christian smirked. "I do as a matter of fact," he says lightly. "Perhaps you and I could play sometime."

"Maybe," I say, turning away from him to hide my smirk. When it comes to organized sports or anything physical, really, I'm pretty pathetic, but I've always been good at pool. I grew up playing against Ray and around the time I was eleven, he stopped letting me win because I was actually starting to give him a challenge.

"What?" Christian asks, sounding amused.

I shake my head and bite my lip to stifle my smile, letting it go immediately when Christian's eyes darken and dart down to my mouth. "Nothing. I just haven't really played in a while," I tell him.

His phone beeps and he looks down at it. "Dinner is here," he announces quietly. "Come."

...

As I settle into my dinner, I wonder if having a meal with Christian will ever stop being awkward and full of tension. Every time we have dinner together, it seems to backfire on us spectacularly. I can feel his eyes on me as each of us tries to come up with something to say.

"Do you have any idea what set Benjamin Reese off in the first place?" he ask quietly.

I look at him and think about that exact question for the millionth time since this began. "Honestly, I don't know. Like I've told you, it started after I turned him down for a third date. Last week when he showed up at the apartment, I got the impression this is all some twisted attempt to win my love or something. His reasons don't matter all that much; I'm just worried that he might turn violent and hurt the people around me. He seems to turn into a fucking ghost the minute the cops show up. He scares me because he's smart and unafraid like he's got nothing to lose. I'm so tired of looking over my shoulder, Christian."

"I know," he says quietly, regretfully. "As for him hurting the people around you, he won't get near enough. Kate is with Elliot and I've assigned security for the both of them. And nobody is getting into this apartment; that's why I pay my security team the big bucks."

I only sigh, reaching for my wine glass.

"Ana," Christian says quietly. "I know you're under a lot of stress right now, but I need you to let me explain about Elena."

And there goes my appetite. "Do we have to do this now?" I ask him.

"I'd like to. It's been a week since I've been this close to you and I assure you it's been one hell of a struggle. The only thing that's kept me away is the fact that Ros told me if I went near you she'd quit. Most people might not consider that a threat, but Ros is too good at what she does and the thought that she'd join another company and become my competition is terrifying."

My lips twitch at the thought. Big, bad Christian Grey is scared of Ros Bailey. I can see the smirk on her face at the thought.

"She's been pissed at me all week and rightly so," he goes on. "I think the only reason I'm alive is because she was able to talk you into staying with GEH and simply switching departments instead of leaving altogether."

"That was my intention," I tell him. "I told you I was still waiting on word from a few of the publishing houses I applied to? One of them sent an acceptance letter. I thought it might be easier to move on if I wasn't surrounded by your world every day."

"I'm glad you didn't," he says. "Look, the day you overheard Elena and me talking, I'd come home early from my trip and I was going to try and surprise you. I made plans to take you out on my boat for dinner. We could be in public together and not worry about being spotted by photographers. Elena's been giving me shit for weeks about you and I knew she wasn't going to back off, so I told her what she wanted to hear."

"You couldn't just tell her to mind her own business?" I ask petulantly.

He shakes his head. "It's never that simple with her," he says, resigned. "And it was getting to the point that I feared she'd target you next—turns out I was right about that." He sighs, shaking his head. "Ana, you're not a distraction in my life. Well, you are, but in the best way possible. When you're around, I forget my problems and not much else matters. I've never met anybody like you and I don't want to let you go."

I stare at him. There it is; the explanation. The one I've spent all week hoping for and now it's real. I don't want to let you go either, I tell him silently. "I don't really know what to think anymore, Christian," I admit softly. "After what you showed me the last time I was here, I'm afraid that even if we can get past the Elena thing and my lack of self-confidence, I'll still eventually lose you because of what is in that room and my inability to let you do whatever it is you do in there."

"Ana, if that's the only thing standing in the way of us being together, then forget about the damn room. I would never make you do something you don't want to do."

"How is that fair for you, though?" I ask him. "You're giving up something you've done for years and I'm not giving up anything in return."

"Well, that's bullshit," he says bluntly. "Ana, you give me something so much more gratifying than the last thirteen years of my life altogether. You give me you and you've got no idea how much that means to me."

I think I might as I recall the one true thing Elena said last Monday—about me falling for Christian. Could the same be true for him? Could he have fallen just as hard for me?

"And I know you're concerned about people knowing about us, and I understand it. But I'm at the point that I just don't give a fuck anymore. This is my life—our life—and I'm not going to give up something amazing just because a few people might not approve."

 _Our life._ I repeat the phrase in my mind over and over again. It's a concept I really like. "So what would you suggest? Making a public announcement? Maybe a billboard?" I ask, trying not to sound startled.

He smiles kindly. "No, no announcements—though I don't completely dislike the billboard idea," he adds thoughtfully, his voice tinged with amusement briefly before he turns serious again. "But that doesn't mean we have to pretend to be complete strangers. If you want to keep things at work professional, that's fine. Overall, it's probably best that way. I've spent years building my company and following a certain code of conduct which involves not fraternizing with my employees, but you're different. I know you're not comfortable with that, particularly at work, but it's not going to change, Ana, whether we're together or not. We can go at whatever pace you want to set for us. After this last week, I'm willing to wait as long as it takes." He pauses, frowning. "Have you missed me at all?"

He sounds anxious and hopeful waiting for my answer. "Yes," I admit in a whisper. "A lot." He beams at me. "But I don't know how to do any of this, Christian. I can't help it; every time something goes wrong, I have the overwhelming urge to just run first and contemplate asking questions later. That's not fair to you or me."

"I don't know how to do any of it either," he says. "And I understand you're reluctance, but we can figure it all out together. Give us a chance, Ana; maybe if we can get past the twenty-four hour mark you'll see how good we can be together."

I don't know how to respond to that, so I return to my dinner. It's not a matter of whether I want Christian in my life; it's a matter of trusting him, of trusting myself. It's a matter of trying to not overthink every word and every decision. I should have let him explain a week ago, but I'd already been so convinced that it was going to end between us, badly, that I set us up for failure. Now I feel like an asshole.

"Dessert?"

My eyes shoot to Christian's face and I flush at his tone of voice more than his question. "What?" I squeak.

He smirks, reaching to the middle of the table for two fortune cookies, one of which he offers me. "I meant fortune cookies, though if you had something else in mind..."

The images his words bring to mind evoke memories from our one night together and the morning after. I've spent all week trying to _not_ think about it and it seemed the more I tried, the more difficult it became to lock away those memories. Christian is still watching me and I can't stop myself from squirming in my seat as every muscle in my body tightens from the knowledge that he apparently wants me, too.

To distract the both of us, I open the packaging on my fortune cookie and he does the same with a secret little smile. I can't take my eyes off his fingers as he cracks open his cookie and removes the tiny slip of paper from inside it. He's silent as he reads, frowning slightly. I wait for him to read it out loud, but he tucks the slip of paper into his pocket and looks expectantly at me. I open my cookie and stare.

"It's empty," I say incredulously causing Christian to laugh. While I want to glare at him, I can't hide my smile. I love seeing him laugh. "I'm glad you find my misfortune amusing," I add sulkily.

"Nice pun," he snickers. I smile proudly, not so much at the crappy joke I made, but the fact that I've somehow managed to dispel the tension between us. "You know what it means when your cookie has no fortune, right?"

"That I got gypped?" I say.

He shakes his head slowly, his amusement long gone and his eyes serious and burning. "It means you make your own future, your own luck, your own fortune. You control your destiny, Anastasia," he says quietly. "And right now, I don't mind saying that you control mine as well."

Staring at him, I drop my cookie to the table, mesmerized by the sincerity radiating from him. It's a heady feeling, being told that I have the power to make or break a man like him. "So no pressure, then," I mutter, trying to break my anxiety a bit.

He smiles softly. "None at all," he whispers, still staring at me.

...

As has been the routine for weeks now, my eyes snap open of their own accord and I'm suddenly wide awake and staring at the ceiling. For a second, I panic, not because I feel someone in the room with me but because I don't immediately recognize my surroundings. The panic fades once I remember Christian showing up at my apartment yesterday because Benjamin Reese scared the shit out of him.

I realize the reason I woke up is because of the soft strains of piano music. Frowning, I look at the alarm clock beside the bed—it's two in the morning. Curious, I get out of bed, grabbing a sweatshirt and padding out of the room, following the music to the great room where I see Christian sitting at the piano bathed in moonlight and wearing only a pair of pajama bottoms. For a moment, I just watch and listen. I wonder vaguely why he plays such sad music and why the expression on his face is so lost and conflicted. Because of me? But even sad and lonely, he is one beautiful man. I'm enthralled by the way the muscles in his back flex as he plays and the perfection of the overall passage.

I frown. The moonlight is bright enough that I can see little white, circular scars marring his back and I recall seeing similar ones on his chest the night we made love. Did somebody do this to him? Perhaps this is a result of whatever goes on in that locked room upstairs. Or perhaps Elena did it to him. The thought sets my blood on fire.

As though he can sense my tension, Christian stops playing and glances around, finding me hiding in the shadows. "Can't sleep?" he asks softly, turning around on the bench to face me.

"Woke up," I murmur in explanation, trying to rid myself of thoughts of anybody harming Christian. "It's been a while since I've actually slept the whole night through."

"I know the feeling well," he says grimly, resting his hands on his thighs as he takes in my appearance.

Feeling brave, I cross the room and sit beside him, much to his surprise. "You play beautifully," I whisper.

He gives me a small smile. "Thank you," he replies. "I'm not used to having an audience. I think the last people who heard me play were family and that's been years..."

"Well, you can play for me anytime."

Turning to me, I see amusement in his gaze. "Is that so, Anastasia?" he murmurs, his words chock full of promise. "That is good to know."

Flushing at his words, I gasp when he reaches up to free my lip from my teeth.

"Please don't do that," he breathes, rubbing my bottom lip with his thumb. "It's far too inviting."

"No one is stopping you," I whisper before I actually have a change to think too hard about the words.

His hand falls away in surprise and his breathing shallows. "Are you sure, Miss Steele?" he mouths.

I nod before I can talk myself out of it and watch with wide eyes as he slowly leans in, his eyes darting from mine to my mouth, and a second later, I feel his lips brush mine. He pulls back slightly, checking to see if I'll push him away. I reach up to tangle my fingers in his hair and pull him towards me. He groans with longing as our lips crash together and the next thing I know, I'm straddling him, my knees on either side of his thighs and he holds me against him. His arms wrap around my waist, one hand traveling south to my backside, the other traveling north to grip the back of my neck. I moan when he presses me into his erection and all reason flies straight out the window. I want him just as I wanted him last week and since the moment we met, I think. If we can somehow hold onto this feeling right here right now, I think we could actually make this work.

With the utmost reluctance, Christian drags his lips from mine and I open my eyes to find him looking back at me, his eyes dark and cloudy. "I've wanted to do that all week," he murmurs against my lips. "Especially since Friday night when I watched you leave the building with that guy."

My eyes widen in surprise at the sudden irritation in his voice. "Jealous, Mr. Grey?" I ask him with a raised eyebrow. He stares stonily at me. I sigh. "You have nothing to worry about with Adam," I tell him. "I think he's more interested in you than he is in me."

His expression cracks and he reluctantly smiles. "I know," he mumbles, kissing me again. "Didn't stop me from wanting to beat the shit out of him, though."

I frown. "How do you know?" I ask suspiciously.

He rolls his eyes, looking arrogant for half a second. "Because I ran a background check on him the moment I got home," he says without regret. "With Reese out there, I needed to make sure you were safe."

My frown deepens as I remember something from the bar that night. "Were you there?" I ask, already knowing the answer.

"Not for long," he admits. "I just wanted to see you. Sawyer was there until you left, though. With as much as you had to drink, I wasn't taking my chances of anything happening to you."

"That should really annoy me," I muse, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

"But instead you find it heartwarming and endearing?" he asks hopefully, giving me a boyish smile and making me laugh. He hisses suddenly as I unintentionally grind against him.

A small, amused part of me wants to call him a stalker, but the last thing I want to do is compare him to my actual stalker. He's nothing like Benjamin. "Something like that," I answer quietly, my amusement fading as I wonder why we're talking instead of doing... other things.

In one movement, Christian lifts me off his lap and climbs to his feet. "As much as I would like to continue our previous activity," he says quietly, leaning in to trail small kisses from my ear to my mouth, "it's late and we have work in the morning."

I frown at him. "So you don't want to..." I can't even finish the sentence.

"I assure you do," he says, glancing down to the tent in his pajama pants. "But I don't want to do anything to jeopardize our chances together. Like I said at dinner, if we can make it twenty-four hours, I think we'll be on the right track."

Resigned to the fact that we're not going to have sex, I allow him to walk me back to my room. I expect him to leave me at the door, but he follows me inside. "Yes, Mr. Grey?" I ask, feigning exasperation.

He smirks. "I don't want to let you go yet," he admits softly, still holding my hand. "I was hoping we could lie down together." Something in his tone suggests there is more to it than that, but I'm not going to question it right now.

"I'd like that," I tell him honestly.

He smiles back at me and we climb into bed. He directs me to turn onto my side while he curls up behind me, wrapping his arms around me. "Sleep, baby," he whispers into my ear.

And I do.


	18. Chapter 18

I'm not entirely certain what I expected to happen after this weekend, how much would have changed, but when I wake up alone in Christian's guest room, I find myself disappointed that he isn't here anymore. I haven't had a lot of time to dwell on the fact that Benjamin Reese is now not only targeting me but apparently Christian as well, because of me. He told me not to blame myself, but who else am I supposed to blame? If not for me, Benjamin most likely wouldn't even know who Christian Grey is.

But I know blaming myself will only piss off the people who just want to keep me safe. I've got enough experience with both Kate and Christian to know that. So instead, I get out of bed and prepare for work. I find Christian in the kitchen twenty minutes later freshly showered and drinking coffee. Feeling shy all of a sudden, even after the middle of the night, I almost want to keep my distance, but he glances over his shoulder directly at me as though he sensed my presence. The smile he gives me could be a beacon leading me straight to hell and I would happily follow it.

"Good morning," he says when I reach him, pulling myself onto a stool at the breakfast bar. He turns away for a second and when he joins me, he places a cup of tea in front of me. "I was just about to come wake you."

I feel like we've had this conversation before and the mischievous look in his eyes tells me he's doing it on purpose. "Well, now I wish I'd stayed in bed," I say quietly. His mouth drops open a little at my response and he looks pleased. "Or that you had stayed in bed."

"I assure you, I wanted to," he says in a low voice that makes me want to listen to him speak for the rest of my life. "But I had to meet with the security team."

And just like that, we're back in reality. "Do I even want to know?" I ask warily, blowing on my steaming cup of tea between my hands.

He raises an eyebrow at me. "Security will be tighter than normal at Grey House," he says briskly. "And frankly, I don't give a fuck if every last media outlet begins speculating about us, you will not be leaving that building unescorted. As it is, Sawyer will be stationed on your floor and security will be making rounds. If Sawyer comes to you and says you need to go with him, do it. There is protocol in place for every possible scenario. If you suspect something isn't right or you see something the security team doesn't, you need to tell them immediately."

I feel like I've got whiplash with this little speech. I want to argue, of course, but considering it was Christian's building that was broken into Friday night, I don't actually have room to complain. "Okay," I agree quietly.

He blinks in surprise at my acquiescence. "Also," he goes on, reaching into the pocket of his suit jacket, "Taylor went by your apartment and brought your car." He slides my car keys across the bar. "Your car has been outfitted with a GPS tracker so that he knows where it is if he needs to, and to alert him if it's been tampered with. It's the same system I have on all of my cars."

"And I suppose if I put up an argument about invasion of privacy or screwing with my belongings, you'll just ignore me."

"If you want to fight it, I'm more than willing to fight, but I assure you, Anastasia, I will win," he says coolly. "Taylor convinced me to let you drive yourself to work as long as Sawyer is with you. The other available options are to be seen entering work with me or staying here. Your choice."

 _Gee, thanks_ , I think sarcastically, even though I understand where he's coming from. And when it comes down to it, I'm grateful for his concern. "Sawyer can ride with me," I choose softly.

He looks slightly disappointed as though he was hoping I'd go with him. I just want to get used to things a bit more before that whole going public thing happens. Not to mention how worried I am about what Benjamin would do if he saw Christian and me together. I trust Christian's security team to keep him safe, but a man who repeatedly breaks into someone's apartment simply to watch them sleep won't be put off by security.

Christian sighs and walks around the bar. "I've spent most of the morning wondering if we figured anything out last night," he says quietly, stopping a few feet from me. "I'm still not sure."

I bite my lip for half a second. "I want to be with you, Christian," I admit softly, shyly. "I think the real issue is that we just don't know each other all that well."

He nods slowly. "You're probably right," he murmurs, reaching out to tentatively cup my cheek. I lean into his touch and he smiles. "We'll simply have to make an effort to get to know one another."

Before I can respond, Taylor clears his throat from the door of the foyer. Christian rolls his eyes and turns to acknowledge his head of security. They have some sort of silent conversation then Christian turns back to me. "Time for work," he murmurs resignedly. "Maybe we can have lunch later?"

"I'll have to check my schedule," I say, trying to maintain a straight face.

He narrows his eyes at me, lips twitching. "You know, a spontaneous invitation to see me during the day isn't something that happens all the time. Normally I'm booked weeks in advance."

"And yet, you can find enough room to fit me in."

"I'd cancel everything scheduled weeks in advance to spend time with you," he says seriously. I know he means it, however befuddling it is. "So?"

I'm slightly speechless so I only nod and he gives me a shy smile that I manage to return. Cautiously he presses his lips against mine as though he isn't certain he's allowed. I'd love nothing more than to continue, but he pulls away before I can even reach up to touch his cheek.

"Until lunch then, Miss Steele," he says quietly, backing away from me with a smile. Right before he spins on his heel to turn away, his smile widens. "Laters, baby."

I smile until I get to Grey House.

...

The moment I walk into the building, I'm on edge. Since yesterday, I've been sheltered from the outside world whenever I thought about Benjamin sneaking into my apartment, bypassing all security measures. But now that I'm out in public, I find myself looking over my shoulder wherever I go and jumping at the slightest noises. The only comfort is that whenever I look up I can see Sawyer doing whatever he does all day.

Around 11:30, Sawyer abandons his post and makes his way towards me. I pale immediately wondering if something else has happened. All sorts of things run through my mind—Benjamin being sighted outside GEH; Kate attacked because he was looking for me; being told he's going after my parents.

Shit, my parents... I still haven't told either of them that Benjamin is back. Probably the only reason I was allowed to remain at school after he started stalking me was because Ray lived so nearby. He helped me with the original restraining order and then took me to the gun range to brush me up on my shooting skills. I considered buying a gun, but I had hoped that whatever Benjamin's problem was, it would only be temporary and going to such lengths would be unnecessary.

"Miss Steele," Sawyer says quietly and as discreetly as he can with a room full of nosy people whose job it is to know every detail of what is going on in the world around them. "There are detectives here to speak with you."

I frown. "Has something happened?" I whisper.

"No, ma'am," he says comfortingly. "Just routine questioning as I understand it."

Relaxing, I manage a smile as I grab my things and follow Sawyer towards the elevators, carefully ignoring all the curious looks I'm receiving from my co-workers. We make our way down to the lobby floor where Sawyer directs me to the security offices and into a small room where two detectives are waiting. I glance around and jump when I locate Christian sitting at one end of the table, his arms crossed and a don't-fuck-with-me look on his face that softens when I enter.

The detectives introduce themselves and I sit at the table beside Christian.

"Miss Stele, we're sorry to interrupt your workday," one of them says, eyes darting towards Christian. I almost smile as I wonder if he gave them shit for bothering me here. "There's no problem; we just need a quick follow-up of the report you filed over the weekend."

"Okay," I say, nervous for some reason.

"Miss Steele, were you aware of Benjamin Reese's violent history?"

I stare at them and beside me, Christian stiffens. I glance at him, finding his expression blank. "What violent history?" I ask reluctantly.

The second detective glances at Christian, then back at me as though he's not certain about giving me this information with Christian in the room. "Eight months ago he was arrested for sexual assault. He attacked a young woman as she walked home from a late night class at WSU in Vancouver. She ended up in the hospital with serious injuries including a fractured skill, broken jaw, and several shattered ribs. Mr. Reese made bail and has been on the run since."

Holy shit. "Is she all right now?" I ask in a whisper.

"It was touch and go for quite a while, but she's recovering."

"What the fuck are you doing to find this bastard?" Christian growls. "It's been weeks since Ana reported the first incident in Seattle and the only thing that has changed is he's getting bolder. Destruction of property, breaking and entering, stalking... What has to happen before he's caught?"

The first detective bristles. "I assure you, Mr. Grey, that we are doing everything within our power to locate Benjamin Reese," he says stiffly.

"Everything within your power?" Christian repeats and for a second I think he might laugh. "Well, brilliant fucking job. How many times has he just barely slipped through your fingers? If Ana hadn't been near her phone last Sunday when he tried breaking down her door, she would have ended up in the hospital or worse."

"Mr. Grey," the second detective begins.

"No," Christian says, standing. "You're supposed to protect people, to make them feel safe. If you're not going to help her, then I will. Ana, come."

I frown at the change of pace and his commanding tone, but I'd rather not see him arrested for causing a scene in front of the detectives, so I stand and follow him out of the room. He walks quickly down the hall in the opposite direction from where I entered to an elevator where he punches the button. Uncertain what to say, I simply stand beside him in silence, the only sound between us being the grinding of his teeth. When the elevator arrives he guides me inside, hitting the floor for the twentieth floor. The moment the doors close, everything changes and before I know what's happening, I'm pressed against the wall, my arms held above my head in one of his hands and he's kissing me passionately, grinding his hips into mine. I moan against his mouth and his free hand cups me below my chin, tilting up my head back so he can kiss me deeper.

Breathing heavily, we break apart and he rests his forehead against mine. "I won't let anyone hurt you," he breathes. "I'll keep you safe, I swear."

"Okay," I mouth, my eyes wide.

He smiles slowly. "Time for lunch, Miss Steele," he says, his tone full of suggestion and promise.

...

Lunch is quiet as I reflect on what just happened in the security office. Unfortunately I'm not all that surprised about Benjamin's violent history. I've been worried since last Sunday about what lengths he might go to. Breaking in to GEH and leaving a photo of me sleeping in Christian's office for him to find are just steps away from attacking me. Christian was right; if I'd been slower getting to my phone or if he'd been more adept at breaking down doors, who the hell knows what he would have done. Part of me wonders if Benjamin attacked this other girl in the hopes that it would eventually get back to me.

I glance up at Christian to find him gazing back speculatively. The kiss in the elevator left me winded and with swollen lips, and his promise rings through my head, but I expected him to react slightly differently to the news about Benjamin. "You didn't seem surprised about Benjamin," I comment quietly. His expression turns wary and now I'm suspicious. "Why not?"

He sighs. "Because I had a background check run on him after you told me about him," he says. "So I already knew."

"And you didn't tell me?" I ask, wondering if I should be irritated or not. "Don't you think that might be something I should know?"

"I thought you already knew," he says softly. "And if you didn't... well, you were already looking over your shoulder; I didn't want to make things worse for you."

"So what else did you find out about him?" I ask curiously.

Christian's eyes widen slightly, probably expecting me to be pissed for going behind my back. Truth is I can't really blame him for checking into Benjamin; he didn't get where he was by not knowing everything about the people who might become a threat to him. "Well, he's been in and out of trouble practically all his life," he begins quietly. "His mother died when he was young." Something dark flashes behind Christian's eyes. "He was raised by his father who spent his life drunk or in prison. When he was nine, he was arrested for shoplifting. At twelve, it was for fighting—he beat the shit out of some kid, almost killed him. Practically every year since, there's been something, but he's somehow gotten out of serving time. When he was sixteen, a girl accused him of rape. She withdrew the complaint before he even made it to court. Around eighteen, he seemed to straighten up enough to make it into college and until the restraining order you took out on him, he was staying out of trouble."

"Oh good," I say sardonically. "I caused him to fall off the legal wagon."

His lips twitch slightly. "It's not your fault," he says softly. "He's the fucking psychopath. I guess some men get hung up on a single woman and will do anything to be with them."

Why do I get the feeling he isn't only talking about Benjamin? "Why me, though?" I ask, referring to both Christian's and Benjamin's interest in me.

"You really have to ask?" he says.

Yes I do, because I just don't get why Christian is so hung up on me. But before I can respond, an alarm sounds, startling both of us.

"What the fuck?" Christian says, crossing the room to open the door.

"Fire alarm?" I ask.

He shakes his head, allowing Taylor to enter. "Sir, there's been a bomb threat," Taylor says briskly. "I need you and Miss Steele to come with me, please; the building is being evacuated."

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," Christian says, running his hands through his hair and glancing at me. "Go with Taylor, Ana. I'll be right behind you."

"Mr. Grey," Taylor pushes. "It's best if you leave the building."

"Yes, I get it," Christian snaps. "But the chances that this is real are slim and the people in this building are my responsibility. Take Miss Steele out of the building to the meeting point and I will catch up once I'm certain my employees are safe."

"Christian," I try.

He glares at me. "Don't," he warns. "Go with Taylor, Anastasia. Now."

Taylor sighs resignedly, glancing at me. "Miss Steele?" he says, holding out a hand towards me.

I want to drag Christian with me—fuck the rest of GEH—but I settle pushing up on my toes and kissing him for as long as he'll let me. "Be careful," I beg him in a whisper.

His expression softens slightly. "You, too. Go with Taylor, please."

With that, Taylor and I make our way to the stairwell, and he guides me down twenty flights of stairs because apparently it's suspected that one of the elevators is where this bomb is located. I frown as we go, thinking about the weekend when the building was broken into and about how Benjamin was messing around with the elevators, and I wonder if this is related. I mention it to Taylor and he glances at me out of the corner of his eye, but doesn't answer. He suspects the same thing.

"What if it's a distraction or something?" I wonder out loud.

"Distraction or not, it's better safe than sorry," he mutters.

Behind and above us, we hear the stairwell door slam open and shut. Taylor looks relieved which makes me think Christian is somewhere not far behind us as we reach the main floor. He pushes open the door leading outside and guides me through, but the moment I step out of the building, someone grabs me, an arm around my neck, and drags me away from the door.

"No point struggling, Ana," a voice whispers into my ear. "We both know you're just playing hard to get. I'm willing to ignore the fact that you've been purposefully making me jealous by fucking Grey. I mean, yeah, it pissed me off at first, but then I just figured it was that whole rich and famous thing and that you just weren't ready for me yet." He bends and runs his tongue from the base of my throat up to my ear which he gently nips. I fight harder, reaching backwards to grip his hair in my fist and yank as hard as I can. He hisses in pain. "You're feisty; I like that. Now, you and I are going to calmly leave this alley and get into my car. Then I'll take you home to Portland where you belong and decide what to do with you."

A gun cocks and I look up to find Taylor looking angry. "Let her go, Reese," he says quietly. "No one needs to get hurt."

"Oh too late for that," Benjamin replies, jerking me to I'm facing the dumpster. Behind it, someone is on the ground and unconscious. I think it might be Sawyer. Taylor glances that way as well and his anger increases. I'm gasping for breath, struggling to get just the tiniest bit of oxygen into my lungs. My fear only grows when my feet leave the ground as Benjamin spins me around so that his back is to the door.

Taylor shoots a look down to me as though he's trying to tell me it's all going to be okay, though I'm starting to doubt it. "You can still walk away, Reese," he says calmly even as Benjamin reaches into his pocket for what I think might be a gun, but I'm starting to lose focus. I feel cold steel pressing against my temple and Taylor adjusts the grip on his own gun.

Behind us, the door opens and I hear shouting as I fight just wanting this fucking nightmare to end. There is grunting and I'm jerked around even more. The last thing I hear before the world around me goes black and I hit the ground is someone shouting my name.


	19. Chapter 19

This has got to be a fucking nightmare. How did I go from having lunch with Anastasia to sitting beside her hospital bed? The details are slightly hazy, but I have a vague recollection of learning about a bomb threat in my building, sending Ana downstairs and outside with Taylor, and when I finally reached them, I found Ana being held at gunpoint by Benjamin fucking Reese. From that moment on, my memory fails me, though judging by the fact that the knuckles of my right hand are bloody and bruised, I took the fucker down. I do recall that Taylor had to drag me away from him to stop me from killing him by sending me to check on Ana. Thankfully, she was breathing or nothing would have kept me back from destroying that piece of shit.

Taylor is taking care of the troubles at GEH, though he did send me a message to let me know the bomb threat was fake, something we both figured out the moment we stepped out of the building into that fucking alley. I'm still unclear on the details, but it seems Sawyer was somehow ambushed and knocked unconscious. He's somewhere in this hospital being treated for a head injury. My main concern right now is the girl lying in the bed beside me with a neck brace to keep her head in place. I've been assured that she will recover within a few days. Reese strangled her into unconsciousness leaving severe bruising around her neck and a damaged windpipe. A little more pressure in the wrong place and he would have killed her.

Over the last few hours, I've had nothing but time to think about everything that has happened between Ana and me since the moment she rear ended my SUV on the first day of her internship to my realization a few hours ago in my office that she has no idea the effect she has on people, men especially. I had every intention of taking her out this weekend on my boat, just the two of us so that we could, for once, have uninterrupted time together to get to know one another. I've spent too much time overthinking every detail about my relationship with Ana and making stupid decisions about what would be best for her.

I still don't know what the hell I was thinking, pursuing an intern just out of college, but I do know I wouldn't have been able to resist her for long even if I wanted to. In such a short time, she has come to mean more to me than every submissive I've ever had put together, and Elena. The thought of losing her again kills me and I'll do anything to avoid it. I spent most of last week sitting on the couch in Dr. John Flynn's office frustrating and depressing myself about this woman. I should be able to control the world around me enough that I'm not chasing a woman all around Seattle, begging her for dates in my office, or despairing over the fact that she's too good for me. But the fact is I wanted her from the beginning and that has evolved into needing her, and even if I don't understand it, it's not going to change anytime soon and I selfishly don't want it to.

What I feel for this woman terrifies me because it's not something I ever felt before and it leaves me feeling lost and vulnerable. The most terrifying thing is that I don't know if she feels the same about me. I know she cares about me and that she says she wants to be with me, but every time I reveal a new part of myself, she leaves. I can't say I blame her; the bombs I've dropped since we met and the things she's overheard because I'm trying to protect her would be too much for anybody.

"Oh, my God."

I glance over my shoulder as Kate and Elliot enter the room.

"Jesus, what happened?" Elliot asks as Kate rushes to the other side of the bed to sit down.

I rub my hands down my face. "There was a bomb threat at Grey House," I answer tiredly. "Taylor was escorting Ana out of the building and they were ambushed by Benjamin Reese." Kate gasps in horror. "He had Ana by the throat and a gun to her head. Taylor had his gun pointed at them, but couldn't take the shot because he could have hit Ana. It was the first time I've ever actually approved of him carrying a firearm.

"I don't actually remember what happened next, but when my vision cleared, he was on the ground and so was Ana. Taylor secured him and the police, ambulance, and bomb squad all arrived shortly after."

"Holy shit, dude," Elliot says in horror. "Is Ana all right?"

"The doctors say yes," I answer. "They sedated her to keep her still until the swelling in her neck goes down—that's what the neck brace is for."

"What's happening with Reese?" Kate asks sharply.

"He's in police custody and the list of charges is a mile long." I glance at Elliot. "Dad is taking care of it."

Elliot winces. Our father rarely loses a case and we're both pretty sure he honed some of his bulldog tactics on us when we were growing up. "Well, you won't be seeing him for a long time," he says dryly. "That means it's over."

"It's not over until we figure out how the fuck he was getting Ana and Kate's apartment," I growl.

Kate takes a breath and I look over at her. "He wasn't," she says quietly. "At least I don't think he's been able to get in since the locks were changed and the security system put in place."

I wait impatiently for her to continue. "I went home to grab a couple of things for Ana and I booted up my laptop to send an email to my father because he's in some locked meeting. I don't know how I did it, but when I went to send the email, a video program popped open and it was of Ana's room. And I checked, the feed was live. A camera was hidden between the books on her bookshelf and it was pointed so that it caught footage of both her bed and her bathroom."

A very small part of me is relieved knowing Reese wasn't in her bedroom as often as I've suspected; a much larger part of me is fucking furious at the thought that Reese was probably sitting in his apartment watching Ana dress and undress and getting off on it. I'll have Taylor and Barney investigate further and find out exactly what he has on her.

"This guy is insane," Elliot says.

"You have no idea," Kate says dryly. "So was the bomb threat real?"

I shake my head. "No," I answer. "We were told the bomb was somewhere in the elevators or elevator shafts and I'll bet anything that Reese breaking into the building over the weekend was related to this. The break-in was too obvious, like he was hoping to draw our attention. Three people have been fired since then for not doing what they should have been that night. Of course we're going to take bomb threats seriously, but since he was fucking around with the elevators when he broke in, he wanted us to think it was real and distract us."

"Could have been worse, little brother," Elliot says in what he probably assumes is a wise, knowing voice.

"Believe me I'm well aware," I mutter, keeping my gaze on Ana's sleeping face.

At some point, Kate announces that she should call Ana's parents and Elliot goes with her. I drop my head into my hands. We shouldn't be here; I'd planned on taking Ana to dinner this evening so we could talk some more. It's come as a shock how much I actually enjoy simply talking to a woman, though Ana is probably the only woman who could ever have that effect on me. Eager as I am to take her to bed again, I'm finding it easy to ignore those urges for the most part. All things considered, I don't want Ana to think I only want one thing from her—I'm finding that I want more than just sex from Ana. I'm still trying to work out what exactly that more is, but I'm not going to give up.

A soft groan has me sitting up in my chair, staring as Ana's eyes flutter open and she looks dazed, her blue eyes cloudy. She opens her mouth to try to speak, but only a hoarse, wordless murmur comes out. "Don't speak, Ana," I murmur, moving to sit beside her on the bed. "You're in the hospital, but you'll be okay."

Her brow furrows as she tries to turn her head to better look at me. "Why?" she mouths, wincing.

I sigh, running my fingers through my hair. "It's not important right now," I say. I don't want to upset her. Somehow she manages to turn the dazed look in her eyes to anger and the glare she gives me has me folding. "The bomb threat today was faked. Reese called it in and when you and Taylor went outside, he was waiting."

Her eyes cloud again, this time in memory and possibly horror. "What happened?" she mouths.

"He's been arrested," I tell her and her body relaxes. "From what Taylor has told me, his intention was to kidnap you; I doubt he counted on you being accompanied by anybody. He tried to strangle you and the result is that your throat is severely bruised and your windpipe damaged. You'll recover in a day or two."

She tries to nod, frowning when she can't. I almost smile; even right now she's adorable. "Sawyer?" she mouths.

"He's alive," I assure her. "I'm still waiting on an update on him."

She gives me a small smile of relief, relaxing against her pillows.

Guilt hits me suddenly and the thoughts I've been trying to hold off all afternoon come pushing through. "Ana, I'm so sorry," I say quietly, unable to meet her gaze. "I promised to keep you safe and this happens."

"No," she says in a hoarse whisper, wincing again. "Not your fault."

"Don't speak," I remind her sternly. "It's not your fault either, which I know is going through your head." I smile when she rolls her eyes at me. The response is surprising since my normal reaction to someone rolling their eyes at me is irritation; when Ana does it, it's endearing.

What the hell is this woman doing to me?

"You should get some rest," I say softly, uncertain how to handle this situation. Leaning over, I press a lingering kiss to her forehead and stand up with the intention of leaving to let her sleep in peace, but she grips my hand and gives me a beseeching look, silently asking me not to leave her. I smile shyly at her, wondering what I did to reward me with having this woman in my life. "I'll stay."

Her returned shy smile has me sitting on her bed and she scoots over enough to make room for me, darting her eyes to the empty spot in silent invitation. I hesitate, not wanting to impede her healing process, but the thought of having her in my arms now after today, after my fear that I might lose her permanently, has me pushing caution to wind and climbing in with her. I help her adjust her pillows and she turns onto her side, and I press into her back, wrapping my arms around her waist. With my nose pressed into her hair breathing in her amazing, unique scent, all the tension and fear leave my body, and I fall asleep quickly.

* * *

Returning to Ana's room from the cafeteria, I marvel for the dozenth time this morning how well I slept last night with her in my arms. It's amazing the effect she continues to have on me—all of my usual traits, from control freak to over protectiveness—have only heightened since she's come into my life. I want to be with her all the time and when I'm not, I feel empty and moody. I want to give her everything she could ever want and need, and I live to see her laugh and smile. I feel like a mushy, lovesick, teenaged asshole, and on some deeply buried level, I'm disgusted with myself. The rest of me is eager to see where these feelings can take us. Now that Benjamin fucking Reese is off the streets, tempted though I may be to make sure he never takes another breath again, the only thing I have to contend with is work.

I'd be more than happy to shout from the rooftops that Anastasia is with me, but her concerns about being an intern and involved with the CEO are absolutely legitimate. I may not care what other people think, but she does, and I won't let anybody make her out to be some slut who's sleeping with the boss to get ahead in her career. I think we can manage to keep things professional at work, especially since she's no longer working on the same floor where I am, and what we do after work is nobody's fucking business. I'm done denying that I want her; I made the mistake once of lying about my relationship to Ana and look how spectacularly that backfired on me. Allowing Elena Lincoln to get into my head to convince me Ana and I can't be together is something I will always regret as will saying the things I did to Elena that Ana overheard. At the time it seemed like the right thing to do; now I know I couldn't have been more wrong.

As I reach Ana's room, I recall running into my mother this morning. Apparently she saw Elliot and Kate last night and they told her about Ana, which led to the connection between Ana and me. Grace ambushed me and demanded to know why I've been keeping my girlfriend a secret to which I responded reflexively that Ana and I are only friends, wincing the moment the words were out of my mouth. Grace had a knowing smile on her face that told me she didn't believe me in the slightest and as a conciliatory gesture I invited my mother to meet Ana.

My girlfriend. I've never called a woman my girlfriend before and never wanted to, but in context with Ana, it doesn't sound all that awful. Actually, I really like the sound of it... I shake off the renewed uneasiness and enter Ana's hospital room to find her just waking up. Her lips are slightly pouty like they always are when I see her first thing in the morning and it makes me smile like an idiot.

"Good morning, Miss Steele," I say, trying to control my reaction to seeing her awake, but her smile matches mine. I frown briefly when I realize the neck brace is gone. "I see the doctor has come by. Feeling better?"

She nods tentatively, swallowing with difficulty. "A little," she whispers.

My smile back in place, I sit beside her in a chair. "I wanted to bring you a full breakfast, but unfortunately, you're limited to soft foods for now, so I brought yogurt. Is that all right?"

Her smile turns shy. "Perfect," she whispers hoarsely. "Thank you, Christian."

"My pleasure, baby," I murmur, reaching into the bag I brought back from the cafeteria, trying to hide my own shy smile at the realization that I seem to know her better than we both think. Noticing how difficult it is for her to move her neck, I sit beside her on the bed and take it upon myself to feed her. At first she seems resistant to allowing me to help, but she finally relaxes and lets it happen. We're doing well until I remember my talk with my mother. "So my mother is working here today and Elliot opened his big mouth about me being here with you, so she's going to drop in to say hello later."

I wince when Ana chokes slightly on her yogurt. "Your mother?" she whispers, horrified.

I smirk. "Yes, my mother," I answer. "It will be a first—one of the many you and I have shared in recent weeks. And I was hoping to introduce you to my family at some point soon, anyway. This might be the best option, to be honest; my entire family at once can be a bit overbearing and I wouldn't want them to scare you off. I seem to have been doing a decent enough job of that on my own..."

She frowns. "You're not scaring me off," she whispers indignantly.

"No, but if I keep screwing things up with you, you're going to end up hating me," I reply. "And I don't want to fight with you, Ana, especially not about this and especially not here. Once your voice comes back, we can discuss it all to your heart's content. Until then, finish your yogurt and prepare to meet my mother."

* * *

The meeting with my mother went very well, I think. I know Ana was nervous and honestly, so was I, but the smile on my mother's face more than made up for that. Despite the fact that Ana can hardly talk, she and my mother spent nearly an hour together while I made a few phone calls to check on GEH. Ros assured me everything is under control, but her main concern was Ana. I gave her the update and she promised to drop by sometime this evening to say hello.

I checked a few more messages, marking the one from Elena to deal with later. I know what will happen the moment she finds out that not only are Ana and I together but that I lied to her, she'll never stop hounding me. She's overeager to arrange a new submissive for me and she doesn't seem to understand that I have no interest in a new submissive even though I've tried to tell her for months. She's convinced that all I need is to liven things up a bit. Well, I've done that with Ana and I've never felt more alive. What Elena needs to understand is that it's none of her business what I do or who I see and it hasn't been for seven years.

After my mother goes back to her shift, Kate shows up and I get the impression my presence is not required, so I head to my standing weekly appointment with Dr. Flynn. He's had quite a lot to say on the subject on Anastasia Steele and not to mention amusement at my expense as he listens to my uncertainty when it comes to her. Recently, I've considered charging Flynn for the entertainment I've been providing him. He thinks I'm sabotaging my relationship with Ana because I'm afraid that if I get too far invested and I lose her, I'll only end up hurting. I told him he's full of shit. I'm not sabotaging anything; everything I've done has been in Ana's best interest.

The first night I had her over for dinner, I realized introducing her to BDSM and my playroom was probably one of the worst ideas I could ever have. In the time I spent with her before then, I learned she was smart and witty and she didn't take shit from anybody. But I also learned that she was young and naïve and innocent, though I later learned she was much more innocent than I previously believed. Dancing with her that night felt so right that I kissed her without having her sign the NDA. That's why I pushed her away. She deserved so much better.

"Christian, it's perfectly normal to want to protect yourself, especially when you're stretching so far from your comfort zone," John says reasonably once I've talked myself through all of my usual points.

"It's not myself I'm trying to protect," I argue. "It's Ana."

He cocks his head to the side. I hate it when he does that because it always means he's about to turn the tables on me. "Protecting her from what, exactly?" he asks. "Christian, you've told her about your past. She knows about your submissives and she's seen your playroom. She still seems interested in you."

"I haven't told her everything," I say soberly. "She doesn't know about my early childhood."

"And you think knowing about what you went through before your adoption will change how she sees you?" he asks. "From what you've told me, that doesn't sound very likely."

I sigh, running my hands through my hair. "That's not what I mean," I say dismissively. "I don't want her to pity me, but she should know I'm damaged. Not to mention the reason I've only ever had petite brunettes in my playroom. The look on her face when I told her about Elena was bad enough."

John very carefully ignores my comment about Elena; from day one, he made his distaste for Elena and what we did together known. The only reason I didn't stop seeing him is because I already believed he'd be able to help me more than any other therapist I'd ever seen. "If you're really determined to have a relationship with Anastasia, you should make an effort to lay out all the cards on the table. Honesty is a necessity. If it turns out she can't handle the revelation, it's better to know now than farther down the line."

"And what happens if I tell her and she leaves?" I ask, dreading the thought. "In the few days that we were apart because she overheard me with Elena, I barely ate or slept or got any work done. I couldn't concentrate on anything and it was worse knowing she was in my building but wanted nothing to do with me. If that becomes permanent..."

"So don't let that happen," he says as though it's the easiest thing in the world. "Christian, being in love was never meant to be easy; there is always going to be give and take, and you and Anastasia are still getting to know one another. It will take time."

I stare at him. " _Love_?" I repeat with an incredulous, forced laugh. "Are you fucking kidding me, John?"

He stares right back. "Of all the things I just said to you, that is the one thing you focus on?" he asks. "Christian, for such a brilliant man, there are times when you're absolutely clueless. Haven't you figured out the reason why you can't seem to leave Anastasia alone despite all of your reservations about your relationship? I've never seen you like this in all the time I've known you. You've already declared that you're willing to turn your back on a lifestyle you've said has shaped your adult life because you don't think she would go along with it. You've risked serious issues professionally by pursuing an intern in your company, yet you're not the least bit concerned by it. You fell to pieces when you believed your relationship with Anastasia was over. And when we spoke last night after the incident at Grey House, you were far more concerned than you would have been if she were only an employee or even a submissive. I know you, Christian, whether you like it or not, and this is something all new for you. You claim you don't have a heart, but look at everything you have done in the interest of this young woman. Why else would you do all of that if you didn't love her?"

As I return to the hospital, I'm still thinking about John's words. After his declaration, I went on a rant about how love is for men who have done good in their lives, who don't have dark pasts and secrets buried behind locked doors in their penthouse apartments. People like Ana deserve to have love in their lives, not me. I don't do hearts and flowers and romance.

Though there were those flowers I sent to Anastasia the day after finding out about her stalker. And the smile on her face as she read the card made me feel amazing and want to see that smile at every opportunity. When I finally took Ana to bed, something I've been thinking about since that damn fender bender, it was incredible. Fucking had never been about having a connection with a woman; it was about my own physical release and if the woman enjoyed it as well, then good for her. I've been a cold hearted, unfeeling bastard over the years, but since Ana has been in my life, it's all changed. She deserves a better man so I want to be that better man because the thought of her with anybody else is like a knife twisting through my soul.

Love.

Is that what it means? Caring that much for another person?

It makes my head spin and draws up ancient feelings that make me feel like that little four-year-old boy hiding in his mother's closet because he's afraid of being used as an ashtray again. I can't dwell on it right now; I don't want my mood to sour before getting back to Ana.

When I enter, Kate is heading towards the door and gives me a smile. "She just got another dose of pain medication," she warns me. "Good luck with that."

I nod in acknowledgement, assuming that's the end of it, but Kate glances over her shoulder at Ana whose head is lolling on her shoulder and her eyelids are drooping. She's still fucking adorable. "Something else?" I ask evenly. I haven't gotten much opportunity to get to know Miss Kavanagh yet, but the fact that she cares about Ana is a point in the right direction.

"I just wanted to say thanks for all of this," she says quietly.

I raise an eyebrow. "All of what?"

She gives me a look. "Taking care of all of the hospital arrangements; getting her a private room; arranging for better security at the apartment... Making her happy."

My eyes widen. "Making her happy?" I ask, whispering incredulously. "You have been around her in the last few weeks, haven't you? By my count, she's been upset more often than not and now look at her."

"Look, I'll be the first to admit I've never seen Ana more up and down than she has been recently, but I've also never seen her take her nose out of a book long enough to show any interest in a guy. This whole thing with Benjamin has her twisted up. She didn't want to tell you about him at first because she didn't want to add more trouble to your life. Even this week all she's done is talk about you."

"Really?" I ask, unable to subdue the hope in my voice.

Kate nods. "Whatever is going on between the two of you, if you care about her as much as I think you do, be patient with her," she instructs. "I think she's as scared as you are."

I stare after Kate as she leaves the room. Scared? Is that what she thinks about me? I glance over at Ana mostly asleep by now and wonder what to do with this newfound information. It's seemingly clear to everyone around us that Ana and I care about one another and we just need to be patient with each other. I was all she could talk about even after the things she heard me say about her to Elena. Maybe I am scared; it would go along with what John has been trying to tell me.

Swallowing hard, I make my way back to Ana's bedside and her eyes crack open again and she gives me a sweet, shy smile. "Hi," she whispers.

I smile back. "Hi, yourself," I whisper back. "I'm sorry I wasn't here earlier."

"It's okay," she replies, rolling onto her side to face me better. "Glad you're here now."

My smile turns indulgent and a little uncertain as she starts to fall asleep. "Get some rest, baby," I say softly, taking her hand and bringing it to my lips to kiss her knuckles. "We'll talk in the morning."

"Hmm," she murmurs, smiling as my lips move from knuckle to knuckle. Just as she's drifting off, she hums again before speaking and saying the words that stop my world in its tracks, "I love you, Christian."

* * *

 **A/N:** Not sure what happened to my author's notes from the previous chapters, but whatever. Thanks as always to everyone who has read, reviewed, commented, etc. As I'm sure you've worked out, we're finally at Christian's POV. I intend to stick with his POV until the end of the story, though I don't know how much more there will be. I've hit a bit of a road block and I'm trying to work out the rest of the plot to my satisfaction so if chapters start coming out more slowly, please be patient and I'll try to keep the gap between updates short.


	20. Chapter 20

Two days ago, Ana was released from the hospital and while I wanted to bring her back to Escala with me, I'm still reeling from her confession as she was falling asleep. I stared at her for hours as her words rang through my head and admittedly, I panicked at first. I'd spent hours trying to put John's words about how I'm in love with Ana out of my head and the moment I did, Kate joined in as well and that was easy enough to ignore until I heard the words from Ana's lips.

Terrifying as that was, there is a part of me that feels almost complete whenever I replay them. The next morning I waited to see if she even remembered what she had said, but she acted completely normal. I was surprised how disappointed I felt at the realization that she probably only said it because of the painkillers she's been on.

Today, despite the efforts of both myself and her doctor, Ana has decided to return to work. The bruising on her neck has mostly faded and while she still occasionally has difficulty swallowing, even I have to admit she's back to normal. I wanted her to transfer back to the twentieth floor to work for Ros again, but she's still stubborn about keeping her distance while we're at work. Besides, if that were to happen, I'd have to fire Ros's new intern. Then again, if history continues to repeat itself, he'll be gone by lunchtime tomorrow.

"Christian, are you even listening to me?" Ros asks, glaring at me from across my desk.

"Sorry," I mutter. "I'm distracted."

She raises an eyebrow at me. "You've been distracted every minute for the last few weeks," she points out, cocking her head to the side. "Everything all right with you and Ana?"

I raise an eyebrow right back at her. "Weren't you the one who kept telling me how important it was to keep things quiet at work?" I ask her. "And the one who spent twenty minutes berating me when you realized there was actually something going on between Ana and me? And _also_ the one who barged in here last week yelling at me about hurting Ana?"

"What's your point?" she asks, shrugging dismissively. "I admit I was a little concerned about the two of you starting a relationship, but I've also seen how happy the two of you have been."

"So you're okay with me dating an intern?" I ask skeptically.

"No, I think it's one of the stupidest things you've done apart from investing in that chain of beauty salons," she replies matter-of-factly. "But if it's what you want, you're both adults and can make your own decisions. Besides, I don't see Ana filing any sexual harassment suits against you or running to the tabloids with an exposé that would ruin your reputation."

"Neither do I," I say softly. _Especially not if she was telling the truth the other night as she was falling asleep..._

"Well, I'm glad for the both of you," Ros says sincerely. "It's good to finally see you happy; do you have any idea how long I've waited for this day?"

I avert her gaze, oddly touched by her words. There is nobody in my company who I would let talk about my personal life but Ros. We've known each other since before GEH existed and she always tends to be the exception to most rules. She is one of the few people who aren't afraid to call me out on my bullshit without landing themselves on their asses with a pink slip in hand. My company wouldn't have become what it is today without her and I can't imagine the place if she left. Nevertheless, I'm not comfortable talking about this with anybody, let alone Ros.

"Don't you have some work to do or something?" I ask trying to sound grumpy.

She smirks at me and stands. "Just don't forget I'm leaving Friday afternoon for my vacation with Gwen," she tells me. "We'll be back Monday night."

I nod, recalling that we have a long weekend coming up. "Have fun," I mutter, ideas running through my head suddenly. "I might take off this weekend myself."

Ros laughs in surprise. "You? Taking off for a weekend? I don't remember the last time you did that."

"That would be never," I say dryly. "But maybe it's time that changed."

Ros looks me up and down and gives me the same smile I've been getting from my mother and Gail recently. "Yes, it seems like a lot is changing with you, Christian," she says smugly. "I like it."

I stare after her until she's out the door and roll my eyes in an attempt to get my morning back on track. When my computer dings, alerting me of a new email, I know that isn't going to happen. I grin as I open Ana's message. We've been exchanging email banter since she got home from the hospital and it's been one of the highlights of my day, second only to seeing her at the end of the day.

* * *

 **From:** Anastasia Steele

 **To:** Christian Grey

 **Subject:** Good morning

Mr. Grey,

I do hope your day is starting out well and that you managed to get some sleep after your late night last night. Once again, I would like to impart on you how much I enjoyed our evening of dinner and movie watching, though I can't for the life of me recall what movie we actually watched because I spent most of it pinned between the couch and a very attractive, wonderful man while he...

Well, I'm sure you can recall what he did.

As much as I would have enjoyed staying the night, particularly after the way we said good night, I'm also enjoying getting to know you better. I look forward to dinner this evening. And perhaps another movie?

Anastasia Steele

Public Relations and Communications, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

* * *

I grin like an idiot at the screen, rereading her message and reliving the memories from last night. Yes, I absolutely remember what happened when I had her pinned to the couch with her hands in my hair and my lips on her neck, collarbone, and ears. For the first time in my life, I made out with a woman and wasn't even expecting to fuck her, not that I would have complained in the slightest. Before I could even get her shirt off, she was announcing how late it was and that she should get home. I tried to persuade her to stay by pressing her against the wall beside the elevator and kissing her until she forgot both our names, but she was determined and I didn't want to pressure her.

I'm willing to go along with her pace and getting to know her—I'm enjoying it as well—but I'm eager to have her naked and in my bed again, and I'm not sure how much longer I can wait.

* * *

 **From:** Christian Grey

 **To:** Anastasia Steele

 **Subject:** Very good morning

Miss Steele,

Despite the fact that I woke up alone, my day is going very well, thank you for asking. Yes, it was quite the late night and one I hope to experience again very soon. I'm not sure I will ever tire of learning new things about you. You should know that opening myself up personally is a new experience and one that I surprisingly don't mind nearly as much as I thought I would.

We will absolutely be watching another movie this evening, or perhaps we can forego the movie and just enjoy each other a little more.

Until this evening, Miss Steele...

Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

* * *

While I wait for her response, I begin planning this weekend I talked about with Ros. The thought of having Ana to myself all weekend without interruptions or anxiety hanging over our heads is one I like so much that I'm tempted to begin the weekend right now. Instead, I begin to make plans and hope like hell nothing pops up to ruin our time together.

* * *

Every time Ana and I step into an elevator together, I have to fight not to throw her against the wall and ravage her, and this evening is no different. After insisting on driving to Escala on her own rather than simply riding with me, Taylor pulls the SUV into the spot beside her car and I'm grinning as I eagerly get out of the backseat to open her car door and help her out. I glance around the garage and find Sawyer lingering nearby keeping an eye on her while she made a phone call.

"Long time, no see, Miss Steele," I murmur, pressing her against the side of her car once Sawyer and Taylor head upstairs. She's holding onto my arms as I press my lips to a spot just below her ear that I discovered can make her whimper and crumble in my arms. "I think I much preferred being able to see you occasionally during the day while you worked on my floor."

She smirks, pressing her own lips to my jawline and sending jolts of pleasure all throughout my body. "I'm not sure we would have gotten much work done," she says breathily. "Besides, I'm actually enjoying Public Relations."

I raise an eyebrow at her. "You were better suited for acquisitions," I chide gently. I've already apologized half a dozen times for being the reason for her sudden job transfer and she's told me as many times to stop apologizing. Rather than starting an argument, I take her hand and pull her towards the elevator, already feeling the electric charge that's between us every time we're together.

"So what's the plan for tonight?" Ana asks shyly, looking up at me through her hair.

Pulling her lip free from her teeth and once again resisting the urge to take her right here, right now, I press a quick kiss to her lips and wrap my arms around her waist. "Well," I say quietly, nuzzling against her neck, "I thought we'd start with dinner, maybe watch a movie, and pick up where we left off last night."

I wait for her to pull away from me and berate me for pushing her unspoken boundaries, but the look she gives me says she has no problem with my suggestions. She turns around in my arms and pushes up on her toes, sliding her fingers into my hair again to hold me in place as she kisses me slowly and deeply. There is something new about this kiss than with previous ones almost as though she's trying to tell me something she can't say with words. Her words from the hospital a few nights ago choose this moment to come back and for the first time, the thought that she might be in love with me doesn't send jolts of panic through my body.

"Miss Steele, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you missed me," I murmur against her lips as the elevator doors open.

She smiles sweetly. "Then I suppose it's a good thing you know better," she teases.

I narrow my eyes at her though my lips are twitching. "You and that smart mouth, Anastasia," I say, kissing her briefly before pulling her into the apartment behind me. "Come, let's eat. There's something I want to talk to you about."

She stops suddenly with a wary expression on her face. "Something like what?" she asks uncertainly.

I smile. "Nothing bad," I assure her. "It's just an idea I had that I wanted to run by you."

Though she still looks suspicious, she allows me to lead her to the breakfast bar where we say hello to Mrs. Jones and I pour us each a glass of wine. Dinner will be done in about half an hour, so Ana and I spend the time talking about our days. While she goes on about her day and the assignment she received that involves an article discussing my company's diverse business acquisitions, I listen and watch in fascination, wondering when I last wanted to hear about a woman's day. She enjoys her work and the people she works with and her eyes light up as she talks. She looks beautiful as always wearing a dress I haven't seen yet. It's work appropriate but sexy and while I hate the fact that other men are reaping the benefits, I would never stop her from looking that great and if I'm really lucky, I'll get to take it off of her later.

I sit down beside her as Gail begins dishing up plates, taking Ana's hand in mine and running my thumb over her knuckles and enjoying the way her body flushes.

"So what is this idea you had?" Ana asks tentatively as we begin to eat.

Sipping at my wine, I wonder if I've ever felt this nervous about anything, and then wondering why I feel nervous about this. "Well, I thought that after the last few weeks and all of the ups and downs, you and I might get away for a long weekend," I say. "We can go wherever you want—the Bahamas; Paris; New York; Aspen..."

Her eyes widen in surprise. "Get away?" she repeats, testing out the idea. "Paris?"

I smirk when I realize it's not horror at the idea that I'm seeing in her eyes. "It's up to you, of course. If you'd prefer to stay home, that's fine, too. I want to be wherever you are."

"Oh," she says, her voice high-pitched. "Just us?"

I nod, cupping the back of her neck and moving my thumb across her skin until she shivers. "Well, Sawyer and Taylor will have to come with us," I concede. "But they will keep their distance. It will be you and me without dealing with work issues or the drama caused by our pasts coming back to bite us in the ass. My place in Aspen was just renovated and I haven't been there in a while; we'd have the place to ourselves."

Her expression softens and her eyes seem to be sending a message to some hidden part of me that only she knows exists. "Well, you did say Paris and by comparison, Aspen would seem a bit dull, don't you think?" she asks. I love how she isn't afraid to tease me. She doesn't think twice about making me laugh at myself.

I reach over and pull her stool closer to mine so that she's sitting between my knees. "Anastasia, when I take you to Paris, I'll want more than a few days with you there. There is quite a lot to see and I'm sure at some point you'll want to leave the hotel room..." I say, lowering my voice to a husky whisper. It has the desired effect on her; she flushes and her eyes darken as the idea registers in her mind. "Besides, it's a long flight to Paris. We can be in Aspen late Friday night and not have to leave until sometime on Monday."

After a moment of stunned silence, she gives me her beautiful, shy smile as though she can hardly believe this is actually happening. _That makes two of us, baby._ "Aspen sounds perfect," she says quietly.

With a shy smile of my own, I lean forward and capture her lips with mine. I only intended for it to be a quick kiss of gratitude, but as is always the case with Ana I'm unable to contain myself for long. Before I know it, she's straddling my lap and I'm sliding her dress up her thighs so I can pull her closer against me. Her fingers are gripping and pulling at my hair so she has a better angle to kiss me. My fingers trail up her soft, smooth skin and she whimpers into my mouth. I harden at the sound and move one hand around to her ass, massaging and squeezing, while my other hand slides up her hip to her breast. She feels fucking amazing in my hands. She begins grinding into me while my tongue travels from her ear down to her shoulder where I bite her gently.

When she moans, I break completely. "I want you, Anastasia," I whisper against her skin. "And I think you want me, too."

She nods frantically, her fingernails scratching against my scalp. "Yes," she breathes.

Smiling against her neck, I stand up, abandoning our dinner, and take her down the hall to my bedroom where I lie her down on my bed and step back for a minute, just staring at her. Her brown hair is fanned around her head and draping across her shoulders. Her skin is faintly pink and her breasts are rapidly rising and falling as she struggles to catch her breath. "You're so fucking beautiful, Anastasia," I whisper. "I've wanted you back here for almost two weeks and now that I've got you here, I want to take my time with you."

She whimpers, watching me with wide eyes as I remove her shoes and begin kissing my way up her legs until I reach the top of her stockings. Kissing her thighs softly, I curl my fingers into the stockings and pull them down slowly as though I'm opening a Christmas present, but one so much more gratifying than what I would typically find underneath the tree. Before I can make my way back up her legs, however, she stops me.

I frown. "What's wrong?" I ask, wondering if she's changed her mind.

She bites her lip briefly, her eyes shining and I don't think she's turning me down. "Can I undress you?" she asks shyly.

I freeze, kneeling at her feet. "Ana..." I say quietly, shaking my head.

Tucking her legs under her, she moves closer to me. "I understand your aversion to being touched and I don't want to do anything that might hurt you. But I've been thinking about undressing you for a while now."

My eyes widen at her declaration. "Have you now?" I ask, hardly daring to believe her words. Will it always come as a revelation that she wants me as much as I want her? "Well, I want to give you everything you want..." And honestly, in theory, it doesn't sound like a bad idea until we factor in the fact that undressing me could entail touching me and that is something I'm not ready for, if I ever will be.

Ana nods as though she understands what I'm not saying. "I won't touch you," she promises quietly.

Old fears creep up squeezing my lungs and making it difficult to breathe, but I hold Ana's gaze and those fears begin to subside. I can trust her. "Okay," I whisper, hoping she can't see the fear in my eyes. She's touched me before unintentionally and I've never reacted in the normal way. Ana seems to have some sort of power to vanquish the darkness that I've fought my entire life and I'm not sure I'll ever understand it.

The smile she gives me makes me forget everything but her. Slowly so I know what she's doing at all times, she reaches first for my tie and pushes up onto her knees so she can unknot and remove it from around my neck. My hands find her hips, gripping her harder than necessary as she pulls away my shirt from my chest and slowly unbuttons it. My breathing increases in speed as her hands move lower, but once she's back in the safe zone, I give her a small smile of encouragement and help her push my shirt over my shoulders. True to her word, her fingers don't even graze my skin in the no-go zones and the darkness recedes completely, replaced with desire for this woman.

"Is it okay if I take off your pants, too?" she asks, her own voice laced with want.

I nod slowly at her, backing off of the bed and pulling her along with me. "Baby, that is more than okay," I tell her, leaning in to press a quick kiss to her lips.

She smiles at me again, biting her lip as she reaches for my belt. "So I guess it's okay to touch you here?" she asks coyly, her hand sliding down to my erection.

I hiss through my teeth as she squeezes lightly and look down at her in surprise at her audacity, but I can't quite form a response. She unbuttons my pants and slowly lowers my zipper, looking up at me through her hair and when her teeth find her lip again, I push her back onto the bed and forcing her to release that lip so I can take it between my own teeth. She moans against my lips and my hands slip around to her back to lower the zipper on her dress. It takes a few minutes because we continue to distract one another—her lips and teeth have found my neck while my tongue trails a path down her shoulders—but finally we're both gloriously naked again.

I push away from her for just a moment to look at her. She really is perfect from head to toe. The only marks on her are the bruises on her neck and they only reinforce my decision to not bring her into my playroom. I don't want to see her skin marred by marks from a cane or whip. There are other things she and I could do, but I won't be pushing for any of it; if she never shows interest in the playroom, I think that will be perfectly fine with me. Besides, there are plenty of things we could do together to make vanilla a little more interesting.

"You're very beautiful, Miss Steele," I inform her, kissing my way from her belly button to her breasts. Her back arches off the bed when my lips wrap around one nipple and my fingers tease the other. "And so fucking responsive," I add when she cries out.

"Christian," she whimpers.

"Is there something you want, baby?" I murmur, blowing against her nipple softly.

"You," she breathes, her eyes closed tightly.

I grin, reaching over to the bedside table for a condom. "And have me you will, Anastasia," I say, quickly rolling on the condom. She watches every move I make, her eyes darkening more by the second. Placing my elbows on either side of her head to support my weight above her, swinging my hips from side to side to push her legs open and slowly slide into her. "Fuck, you feel amazing."

Her eyes widen as I press deeper until our hips are aligned. "So do you," she mouths.

Smiling, I lower myself so that I can kiss her, moving my hips in time with our lips and tongues. Her hands slide up my arms to my biceps, stopping just short of my shoulders. She's already figured out where not to touch me and as we move together, I begin to think her touch on my back or chest wouldn't be so bad. I'm not quite there yet so when she twists her fingers in my hair, I relax and let her hold onto me the only way I can handle right now.

It occurs to me when she wraps her legs around me that this isn't fucking; this is making love and feels incredible. I wonder if it's because I've never really been with a woman like this or if it's because of the woman whimpering and whispering my name into my ear that it's like this.

The build-up is a slow one, our foreheads touching and our gazes locked. I wish I could decipher the look in her eyes right before they glaze over and her head tilts back as she detonates around me. Watching the pure pleasure in her expression is enough to set me off and I call out her name, dropping onto her and burying my face in her neck.

Recalling the other night at the hospital and what she said to me, and I suddenly long to hear her say those words to me while she's fully conscious. In order to keep myself from saying something I'm not sure I'm ready to say, I kiss her from just beneath her ear to her lips.

"Better than I recall, Anastasia," I murmur, pushing onto my elbows again to see her face. She gives me a slow smile as her eyes open and I think she feels the same.

"I don't know," she says quietly, pressing her lips together against a smile. "The last time was rather special."

I smile at her. It hasn't left my mind that I was her first and if I have it my way, I'll be her last. "More than special," I murmur, running my nose alongside hers. "The word mind-blowing comes to mind and I have the feeling it will only get better."

"I think so, too," she whispers shyly. "I'm sorry it took us almost two weeks to get back here."

Shaking my head, I gently pull out of her and drop on my side, pulling her to face me. "Don't apologize," I murmur. "A lot has happened. But now that it's done, we have nothing but time."

Delight at my words lights her face and a warm feeling spreads through me at the thought that I've managed to make her happy. We hold each other's gaze for several minutes and she looks as though she wants to say something, but before she can, her stomach grumbles, ruining the moment.

I smile at her, leaning forward to kiss her briefly. "We should eat something," I whisper. "And then maybe can see if we can't make the next time better..."

* * *

 **A/N:** I meant to post this earlier this week, but I had some personal issues to take care of. Better late than never, right? Anyway, thanks for the reviews and comments, and for being understanding about the writer's block issue. I'm still working it out, but I think I'm getting closer to knocking it down. Cross your fingers...


	21. Chapter 21

On Friday morning, I wake up in a better mood than I have in a long time and the reason is the beautiful brunette who has fallen asleep in my arms every night after hours of indulging in one another for the past few nights. Being with Ana so much recently has done wonders for the both of us as the drama hanging around us fades away. The footage found on Benjamin Reese's computer hard drive of Ana in her bedroom has been turned over to the police after I reviewed it. Kate was right; that fucker has been watching her from the comfort of his home for weeks—watching as she slept, changed her clothes, bathed and showered, and worked. It disgusts me that he's done this to her and that I wasn't able to see this coming. It's yet another way I've failed Ana.

It's been surprisingly easy to pretend there is nothing between us at work, fun even. Yesterday afternoon I felt my control slipping following an hour long meeting with my PR department where I spent more time paying attention to the dress Ana was wearing that kept riding up her legs. Afterwards, I broke yet another one of my cardinal rules by asking her to walk with me down the hall to the security office where I took her against the wall.

This morning over breakfast she assured me there wouldn't be a repeat of our midday tryst. I'm already planning to test her resolve next week when we get home from Aspen. In the meantime, I'm condensing a full day's schedule into the five hours I have before Ana and I leave.

"Mr. Grey," Andrea says over the phone, "I was able to cancel most of your meetings scheduled for the afternoon, but Mrs. Lincoln is insisting that she cannot reschedule."

I pinch the bridge of my nose. Of course she is... "Leave her on the schedule," I say resignedly. "Have the arrangements in Aspen been finalized?"

"Yes, Mr. Grey," Andrea confirms. "And Stephen called; the jet is on standby until takeoff and all preparations and final checks are complete."

At least someone is being cooperative today. "Thank you, Andrea."

Sitting back in my chair, I realize this is the first time I'll see Elena since that disaster of a day when Ana overheard us talking. I've spent a lot of time thinking about my relationships with both Ana and Elena, and I've come to the conclusion that one of them is much more important to me than the other and it isn't the one I've counted on for more than a decade. Though we haven't discussed it in-depth, I'm very clear on Ana's feelings towards Elena and if I want this new relationship to succeed, some big decisions need to be made. Today is the perfect opportunity to deal with it.

After several phone calls and meetings with a few department heads, Andrea buzzes again to inform me that Elena has arrived. I hesitate briefly before having Elena enter; this is going to exhaust me and probably piss me off, because Elena is always so fucking set in her ways that I know this will be a fight.

"Christian, it's so good to see you," Elena gushes as she crosses the room to greet me. I stand stiffly in place as she places her hands on my biceps and kisses my cheek. Compared to Ana, Elena's touch feels cold. "You're becoming so difficult to reach lately."

"Have a seat, Elena," I say, gesturing to the couch. She strides over and takes a seat, expecting me to sit beside her. Instead, I sit in the chair across from her with the coffee table between us. She frowns briefly. "How's the salon?"

She raises a thin eyebrow at me, her lips twitching. "Getting right into it, are we?" she asks. "Come now, Christian, we haven't spoken in so long and I've had to hear about your news from your mother."

I sigh, my eyes closing briefly. "What news?" I ask dully even though I know exactly where this is going.

"Well, you and Anastasia, of course," she says with a smile that doesn't reach her eyes. "It was quite the surprise after our conversation a while back. I thought we agreed that a relationship with this girl is a bad idea and you were waiting for the right time to let her down gently?"

"You agreed to that; I agreed because I didn't want you bothering her anymore," I correct her. "And while we're on that subject, I heard you ambushed Anastasia right before that conversation between us."

"Ambushed?" she scoffs. "Is that what she said? It's a bit overdramatic, don't you think?"

"No, I don't, since I'm the one calling it an ambush. And thank you, by the way, for talking to Ana about my playroom before I had the chance to do it myself."

Her humor returns. "Christian, if you hadn't told her before then, chances are you never would have," she says. "All relationships are based on honesty, Christian, and it was best for you to find out how she felt about your lifestyle before you became too invested." She narrows her eyes at me. "Though now I'm guessing it's a bit too late for that, isn't it?"

"That's none of your business," I say coldly. "I appreciate that you're looking after me and what you think is in my best interest, but I'm a big boy now, Elena, and I no longer need your help."

"You're making a mistake, Christian," she implores, leaning forward. "Think about this girl. She seems sweet and innocent; what's going to happen when you can no longer hide your true self from her? You'll ruin her and you'll spend the rest of your life feeling guilty. You have a good heart, Christian, whether you want to admit it or not. Let this girl go and go back to what you do best: taking control and being master of your universe. I understand boredom and wanting to make things more interesting, but don't get caught up in the fantasy she's trying to sell you of all the love and romance nonsense. You know as well as I that is for fools."

"Well, then, I guess I'm a fool," I reply quietly, trying to keep my temper. "I assure you, Elena, that even if you don't believe it, I know what I'm doing. Perhaps I don't understand how any of it is supposed to work and maybe it will end with hearts being broken, but for Ana, I'm willing to take the chance."

Her mouth drops open and she immediately loses all her poise and sophistication. "What are you saying?" she says sounding disgusted.

"I'm saying that love and romance is neither a fantasy nor nonsense. For the first time in my life, a woman is interested in me for something besides my looks and money. She isn't into BDSM, but that doesn't matter. I'm perfectly happy doing whatever makes her comfortable."

"So you're giving up everything you've ever known for this girl you've barely known a few months; what is she giving in return?"

I glare at Elena. "She's giving me her," I say softly. "She knows me better than anybody and she still wants me."

"The next thing you're going to tell me is that you're in love with her," Elena says, curling her lip.

I hold her gaze, but don't reply.

Her eyes widen. "Christian, you can't be serious," she says indignantly. "You're better than that." The way she's speaking to me reminds of when I was fifteen and she was lecturing me about drinking and skipping classes and getting into fights in school, and it's pissing me off.

"No, Elena, I'm not," I say without blinking. "You've spent almost half my life telling me I could never have a normal relationship because of all my issues. You made me believe that tying a woman up and beating and fucking her would be the only way to get through my life without dying young or ending up in prison. But that's your way. I appreciate what you've done for me over the years, Elena, I truly do, but I think our friendship has run its course and it would be best if we limit ourselves to a business relationship from here on out."

She looks shocked at my words, and while I'm just as shocked for having said them, I meant every single one. "I knew this girl would get into your head," she hisses, standing.

"Well, you were right," I say, throwing my hands up in frustration. "And she's also gotten into my heart and if I have my way, she'll never leave. Now if you don't mind, Elena, I have a lot to do before this afternoon, so you should go. In the future, you can deal with accounting or legal if you need advice regarding the salons."

Her mouth open and shuts a few times until she finally takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly, and regains her poise. "If that's what you want, Christian."

I nod.

"Well, then I wish you luck," she says quietly. Without a backwards glance, Elena leaves the room and I stare after her. That was far too easy, but at least now she knows the score.

* * *

Just after 3:30 in the afternoon, Ana and I are getting settled on the GEH jet and I watch her buckling her seatbelt with a smile.

"What?" she asks with her own smile.

I debate for a moment whether to tell her what it is I'm thinking. "The first time you were on this jet," I begin quietly, leaning towards her, "I spent most of the flight to Taiwan thinking about taking you back to the bedroom." Her eyes widen in surprise. "The only thing stopping me was the knowledge that Ros and Riley were here with us."

Ana makes a spectacle of looking around the mostly empty jet. Taylor and Sawyer are up front with the flight attendant and have been instructed to not bother us unless it can't wait until we're in Aspen. "Well, I don't see either of them here," she says in that shy, sexy voice. I'm enjoying the increasing confidence I see in her the longer we spend time together. "What's your excuse now?"

She's challenging me, something no other woman has dared to do, and it excites and arouses me to no end. "I assure you, Miss Steele, the moment this plane has leveled out in the air, we will spend the remaining flight time behind closed doors. I cannot tell you how eager I am to join the mile high club." I smirk at her almost scandalized expression.

Nevertheless, she rises to the occasion and clears her throat. "And who might you be joining that prestigious club with, Mr. Grey?" she asks with her own smirk. "I did see the flight attendant checking you out for a little longer than necessary."

I raise an eyebrow at her. "Is that jealousy I hear in your tone, Anastasia?"

She flushes slightly and I know I touched a nerve, but she won't let on. "Certainly not, Mr. Grey," she replies primly.

"Does that mean I can convince you to join the club with me?" I ask huskily, reaching over to trace her kneecap with a finger and enjoying the shiver that runs through her body and into mine. "I'm going to take that as a yes."

When the plane takes off, our flight attendant brings us each a glass of wine and I recall my conversation with Elena earlier that I've yet to tell Ana about.

"What's wrong?" Ana asks, frowning as my expression darkens the longer I think about Elena.

I sigh, not wanting to ruin our time away, but knowing it's better to get it out of the way now. "I met with Elena this morning," I tell Ana, setting my wine aside.

Her expression neutralizes. "Oh," she says quietly.

"I intended for it to be solely about business, but my mother told her you and I are together and of course she had quite a lot to say on the subject."

"I bet she did," Ana says in a bitter tone I've never heard from her before.

"She is stubborn and doesn't like it when I go against her word." I note a flash of disappointment on Ana's face and I can almost her asking if this is the end of us because Elena has put her foot down. The fact that I've done anything that caused her to think that could be a possibility is upsetting. "And then I told her to mind her own fucking business."

"You did?" she says, her mouth dropping open. "I thought you said she's your friend..."

I smile slightly. "Of course I did," I say softly. Ignoring the fact that the seat belt sign is still lit, I reach over and unbuckle Ana's and pull her into my lap. "And yes, she was my friend, but clearly not as good a friend as I assumed; if she were, she'd be happy to see me happy and in love rather than trying to talk me out of it by saying I'm not cut out for it."

Ana's entire body stiffens in my arms and she looks up at me tentatively as though she's wondering if she heard what she thinks she heard. "Happy and..." Her eyes widen and she's unable to finish the sentence. It's an odd concept, since she was the first to say it even if she was asleep, and how unwilling I had been to say it before today.

"And in love," I repeat softly, tilting her chin up to look at her. Her eyes brighten and she gives me a smile I haven't seen before that mirrors how I'm feeling right now. "That can't be news to you, Miss Steele," I murmur teasingly, pressing my lips to hers.

She kisses me back for a few moments. "It is news, Mr. Grey," she says shyly. "But I love you, too."

The smile on my face has grown so wide that my cheeks are starting to hurt. "I know, Miss Steele." Her brow furrows in confusion and I press my lips to the little _v_ that forms there. "You told me while you were in the hospital and falling asleep."

Her mouth drops open in surprise. "I thought that was a dream," she whispers bashfully. "You didn't say anything."

I shrug. "It's not something I've ever experienced before or even something someone apart from family has ever said to me. To be honest, I panicked a little at first. Before I got back to the hospital, I'd spent an hour in Dr. Flynn's office listening to him trying to convince me to admit how I feel about you." The tears building in her eyes would be off-putting if she didn't look as happy as she does right now. "I can't say I understand what you see in me; I'm not exactly a saint and more often than not I seem to fuck everything up..." I trail off when she presses a finger to my lips.

"That goes both ways," she declares softly. "You could have anybody; you could have someone who is open to doing the things you enjoy doing or someone who doesn't freak out and run so easily."

"I've had women who are more than open to doing the things I enjoy doing and it only took a car accident to realize that I was missing out on something and how bored I was becoming in that life. As for freaking out and running, I can't say I really blame you; you've had more than enough legitimate reason to run. But I hope those days are over now," I add anxiously.

Shy again, she nods, smiles, and kisses me deeply, twisting her fingers in my hair. I'm starting to believe she does this to avoid touching me elsewhere.

A ding startles us from the kiss and I look up to find the fasten seat belts sign is off now. With a sly smile, I stand with Ana in my arms and ignoring the shocked gaze of the flight attendant, we quickly make our way to the back of the plane to the cabin. We have a few hours to cement our declarations of love before touching down in Aspen and I'm eager to take all of the doubts Ana feels about deserving me away from her. And if I'm really lucky, she might someday convince me that I deserve her as well.

* * *

Not long after landing in Aspen, it begins to pour rain, but it's only a vague disappointment because as soon as we're in the SUV and on the way to the house, Ana falls asleep against my shoulder. As she sleeps, I marvel at everything that has happened today from dealing with Elena, even if it's only temporary, to spontaneously telling Ana that I'm in love with her and having her tell me she loves me in return. We made love in the cabin of my jet and afterwards, curled up together until it was time to go back to our seats for landing. We talked easily and I couldn't recall the last time I laughed so much, though it was much more gratifying to see Ana giggle and smile. I'd go to hell and back half a dozen times just to see her like that every day. That's my goal this weekend: to make her as happy as I possibly can.

I nuzzle my nose into her hair and kiss her as Taylor pulls into the driveway. "Time to wake up, baby," I whisper and watch her slowly wake up again. She gives me an adorable sleepy smile. "I could watch you sleep for hours, but we're here."

She frowns briefly at my words and I inwardly curse myself; I'm not the only one who has watched her sleep in the last several weeks. I start to apologize, but she leans up to kiss me before I can, effectively blocking out what I'm sure are very bad memories for her. When she pulls away, she looks out the window at the house. "Looks good," she says quietly with a tentatively excited smile.

"Wait until you see the inside," I tell her, injecting as much sensuality into my tone as I possibly can. "Come."

Less than an hour later, Ana and I are curled on the living room couch with a fire roaring across from us. Ana is watching television while I sporadically press my lips to whatever patch of skin I can find.

"Can I ask you something?"

Ana has rolled over onto her back to look at me. I try to work out her expression—it's something between curiosity and fear, and it makes me nervous suddenly. "Of course," I murmur sincerely. "Ana, you can ask me anything."

She swallows hard. "Would you ever consider taking me into your playroom?" she asks in a small voice.

I stare at her in surprise at the question and the more I ponder it, the more nervous I become. "Why would you want to go in there?" I ask quietly, my heart pounding.

She shrugs, but holds my gaze. "It's what you've done in all the time before me and I get the feeling you might miss it," she says hurriedly. "And I know you said you decided against bringing me in there because of Benjamin, but he's gone and I'm a hell of a lot stronger than you seem to think I am."

Rolling over on top of her, I grab her hands in one of my own and lift them over her head. "I know you're strong," I say quietly. "You'd have to be to put up with all the shit you've put up with, but this is another beast altogether, Ana. I don't want to hurt you, not ever. I become another person in that room and I really believe it's somebody you wouldn't like."

"Well, we won't know unless we try," she says tentatively yet earnestly. "You say I know you better than anyone else in your life, but you won't share this part of you with me."

Her words echo Elena's from this morning and it leaves a bitter taste in my mouth when I realize they each have a point in their own way. I don't want Ana to withhold any of herself from me and it's only fair to share all of myself with her. It's only fair to let her touch me...

Shaking my head, I push away from Ana and fall to the other end of the couch. She sits up, pulling her knees to her chest, and she looks hurt. "Christian, when I said that I love you, I meant it. That means taking the good with the bad. After everything you've done for me, I want to give you something in return. Maybe if you're not comfortable taking me in there yet, we might try something else."

"Like what?" I whisper.

She shrugs again and gives me a tiny shy smile. "Maybe you could... tie me up?"

I can't recall ever being this floored in my life. This must be a dream; there is no way sweet, innocent Anastasia Steele just asked me to tie her up. The images her words bring to mind have me panting with desire and suddenly there isn't anything I want more. "Tie you up?" I repeat in a low voice. Only now do I realize that I've missed the kink. I've missed the control and power being a Dominant brings me. I have no desire to hurt her in any way, but there might not be any harm in a little light kinky fuckery...

Searching her expression for anything that might suggest she really doesn't want this and is only doing because she thinks it's what I want, I make up my mind. This way I can take my time with her and not worry every second that she's going to touch me. Besides, at some point I knew this would happen with her, though I thought it would have been sooner than this. The knowledge that she loves me and that I love her decides it.

Yes, I can do this.

"We aim to please, Miss Steele," I murmur, reaching over to pull her into my lap. She seems surprised at the change of pace when I weave my fingers into her long, soft hair and kiss her with a passion I've never felt before. "I think we can come up with something to satisfy."

Excitement flashes in her eyes and I grin, all doubt leaving me as I stand up with her in my arms. She wraps her legs around me automatically and I take her upstairs to the master bedroom where I deposit her on the bed. My eyes rake the headboard and a plan forms; pressing my lips to hers again briefly, I whisper, "Don't go anywhere," and look round for one of my suitcases from which I find a gray tie, nothing that will be too abrasive or leave marks on her perfect skin for long. I quickly divest myself of my clothes then straddle her hips to remove hers. After taking a moment to fully appreciate her perfection, I gently tie one of her hands, raising it to loop the tie through the hole of the headboard before tying her other hand.

"How's that?" I breathe, my excitement rising at just the sight of her bound and at my mercy. "Too tight?"

She shakes her head as her breathing quickens. "No, it's good," she mouths.

I give her a wolfish grin. "Better than good, baby," I correct her. "If you don't like this or if I hurt you, I need to you tell me, and I will stop immediately. Understand?"

She nods frantically, eyes wide and filled with nervous anticipation.

For a second, I consider binding her legs as well, but decide to take it one step at a time to avoid freaking her out. "Now, Miss Steele," I whisper, kissing her chastely again, "I'm going to kiss every inch of this delectable body and you just have to absorb it all."

Inwardly snickering at her whimper, I slide down her body until I'm at her feet. I've never been particularly attracted to a woman's feet before, but hers are lovely. Starting with her toes, I take each one into my mouth and suck on them slowly until I reach the big toe where I lightly graze my teeth against the pad. Ana cries out and her hips buck up. She tries to struggle against the binding around her wrists, but I am confident she isn't going anywhere until I'm ready. I repeat the process with the other foot then begin the journey upward on her body, licking, sucking, and nipping against the skin. She's moaning softly, her eyes wide as she watches my progress intently. When I reach her inner thighs, I push her legs apart and alternate kissing each leg until I'm at her core. I pause here, much to her indignation.

"Christian, please," she whimpers.

The sound of my name on her lips while I have her tied nearly obliterates my efforts to move slowly. I rein in just enough to not climb up her body and slam into her; instead I gently blow on her clitoris making her cry out again, buck her hips, and throw her head back. "You're so beautiful," I whisper in awe against her. She gives me a begging look and I can't continue to tease her; I want to give her everything in this moment, so I dive in with my lips, taking her clitoris between them and sucking while the fingers of one hand slide up and into her, circling her, widening her. "So fucking wet," I pant as her juices coat my fingers. I don't remember the last time a woman was so ready for me.

Still, I devote my attention to her, moving my fingers harder and faster, sucking her into my mouth until she's screaming my name and her entire body shudders as she comes. I groan at the sight of her, my lips still against her, and she convulses again in aftershocks. I could do this to her all fucking night and not get tired of looking at her, but I'm so hard it hurts and I need to be inside her.

Quickly, I reach over to the bedside table where I placed a box of condoms when we came to unpack and quickly slide one on, never taking my eyes off of her. She's flushed and panting, and the desire in her eyes is almost overwhelming. I wanted to go slow with this, but we've got all weekend to go slowly. Propping myself above her, I lean down to rub my nose alongside hers and quickly kiss her lips.

"This is going to be hard and fast, baby," I warn her. "Are you still okay?"

She gives me a dazed smile. "More than okay," she whispers shyly. "I want you, Christian."

I close my eyes at her words, savoring them. "I want you, too, Anastasia. More than I could ever express to you."

With one more quick kiss, I position myself against her entrance, brace my hands beside her head, and slam into her. We cry out in unison as I bury myself as deeply inside her as I can. For a moment, I remain still, loving the feeling of her surrounding me—so wet and hot and tight—it's almost enough to bring on my climax. But not yet. Slowly, I pull out almost fully, slamming into her again and pausing to check that she's all right. Her hands are fisted above her head, her mouth half-open in a silent scream, her eyes wide and locked on me. Only me. Only I have been with her like this and that is how it will remain.

Certain she's still with me, I pound furiously into her, my face buried in her neck as I listen to her panting breaths against my ear, enjoying the way her breathing stalls every time I thrust into her. Suddenly I pull out of her completely and she squeals when I flip her onto her belly, pushing her legs up so her ass is in her air. I take a moment to appreciate it and think of all the things I would enjoy doing to it. I place my hands on her hips and slam into her again.

"Oh fuck," I manage to get out through my gritted teeth. "So deep this way, baby." I give her a moment to adjust to the new position; when she begins pushing back onto me, I let myself fall into a punishing rhythm, always listening in case she tells me to stop, but she doesn't. She's enjoying this and it gives me hope for our future together.

It only takes a few more thrusts before she's screaming my name again and a few more after that when I slam into her one last time, emptying myself into her. Before dropping all of my weight on top of her, I reach over and untie her wrists, rolling her onto her side while I pull out of her and remove the condom, dropping it to the floor beside the bed. Regaining my breath, I roll Ana onto her back and inspect her expression. Slowly she opens her big blue eyes again and looks at me.

"How was that?" I whisper anxiously.

She rewards me with her beautiful smile. "Amazing," she breathes.

With a huge smile on my face, I lean down and take her lips, kissing her slowly and thoroughly. "I love you," I whisper, noting that it is becoming much easier to say than it was only a few hours ago.

Her eyes are closed when I pull away and tuck her against me, my chest to her back, but she manages to whisper, "I love you, too," before falling asleep.

I hold her tightly against me, burying my nose in her hair, and just before I fall asleep, I admit something else I've never admitted to anybody, not even myself, "I need you, Anastasia."

* * *

 **A/N:** Apologies for the delay, but hopefully this made up for it. Until next time!


	22. Chapter 22

I can't ever remember enjoying a weekend the way I have this one with Ana. I used to look forward to my weekends whenever I had a submissive. It was generally a good way to let off the tension following a long, stressful week at work or just to relax a little and let go. My submissives always knew what was expected of them at all times. There was never any dinner conversation or someone teasing me or laughing with me; I went to bed alone while they were upstairs in their bedroom. None of them entered my bedroom or my bed and I never wanted them to. I was relaxed during those weekends, or as relaxed as I could ever be, but this weekend with Ana, I'm realizing those weekends with those women were nothing compared to this and to her.

On Saturday morning, she woke with me moving inside her slowly from behind. Neither of us spoke and we didn't need to; we moved together in perfect synchrony, my lips at her throat, her arms wrapped around my head and her fingers in my hair. Afterwards, she insisted on making breakfast for me. I almost wanted to tell her no because I didn't want her to lift a finger. I then remembered I gave Aspen staff the weekend off to ensure Ana I would be alone and I can't cook to save my life. Dressed only in the shirt I wore on the flight here yesterday, Ana cooked for me and it was delicious. Following breakfast, I insisted that we shower together, mostly because staring at her throughout breakfast, smiling every time she giggle while she told me stories of her college days, made me painfully hard.

We drove into town, with Sawyer and Taylor trailing behind us, and just walked the streets hand-in-hand like every other couple around us. It felt normal, something else I've never experienced before. We had lunch, did a little shopping, though she insisted that I not pay for anything. More often than not, I rolled my eyes and paid anyway, much to her chagrin. That night I made a bed on the floor in front of the fireplace and we spent hours talking and making love. I told her about growing up with the Greys and the trouble Elliot and I used to get into. She told me about growing up with her mother and various stepfathers, though she clammed up when she got around to speaking of Husband Number Three. I made a mental note to do some digging on him.

Sunday started out just as Saturday. After breakfast and a shower, we went hiking just outside town and my affection for Ana only grew at the realization that she shares an affinity for the outdoors with me. Not many of the women I've known in my life apart for my mother and sister could stand being amongst dirt and bugs for more than two minutes. At lunchtime, we had a picnic on a red checkered blanket I was able to find in one of the closets and once I was certain we were completely alone and wouldn't be interrupted, I had Ana naked and on her back while I made love to her slowly and thoroughly.

More than once I have wondered what the hell she is doing with somebody like me, but I worry that if I do she might start to consider the question and leave me. The thought of that possibility makes me sick to my stomach. I don't know much about relationships or romance, but I do know that losing her would be the end of me, and we've only known each other a short time. How could anybody have this sort of effect on me that quickly? It's a frightening concept and not one I'm willing to put to the test.

For dinner, I took Ana out to one of my favorite restaurants in Aspen. When I saw her dress, it nearly knocked me on my ass. I knew damn well she didn't bring that dress with her and she informed me she bought while we were shopping yesterday. I'd stepped out of the shop for a few minutes to deal with an issue Ros called me about and by the time she'd joined me, Sawyer had already put it in the car to take home. It was shorter than anything I've seen her wear so far and I was almost tempted to forbid her wearing because I knew the moment we stepped out into public, every man in Aspen would be looking at her, imagining themselves fucking her, fucking what's mine. In the end, I certainly wasn't going to do anything that might cause a fight or force her to change. After dinner, I took her to Zax a nightclub I0 partly to check in on my investment and partly because I wanted to get her onto the dance floor.

By the time we got home, we were barely able to make it to the bedroom and if I hadn't been worried that Taylor's nightly security rounds would include the inside of the house, I would have taken her against the living room wall without a second thought.

Today, we're packing to go home despite the fact that I'd be perfectly happy remaining here with Ana for the next several weeks. She seems to feel exactly the same way. We've gone the entire weekend without concerning ourselves with the possibility of stalkers or even worrying that the media might see us together in public. I've stopped caring about the paparazzi. There is nothing wrong with what Ana and I do in private. We're not flaunting our relationship at work, though I really don't think I would mind if we did. The only concern I still have in that regard is the reputation that would follow Ana around; I won't put her through that.

"Thank you for a wonderful weekend," Ana says shyly as we take our seats on the plane.

I return her smile. "Ditto, Miss Steele," I murmur, kissing her hand. "I don't remember the last time I enjoyed myself so much. Perhaps next time we can take out my boat for a few days."

"I'd like that," she says, her smile widening. "You know I was thinking about visiting my mother this weekend."

"Really?" I ask, frowning. "You haven't mentioned that."

She shrugs. "I prefer this," she admits. "My mother can be a bit overbearing at times."

I chuckle. "Wait until you meet my sister Mia," I say wryly. "By now I'm sure my mother and brother have brought her up to speed about you; I give it a week before she's demanding to meet you. And that's only because she's still in Paris."

She giggles. "Well, I can't wait to meet her," she says, resting her head on my shoulder.

I can't imagine anything being more perfect than this moment. I know we will have hurdles to contend with as we get to know one another and deal with the outside world and whatever it throws at us.

* * *

The minute I step onto the twentieth floor at Grey House the next morning, I know it's going to be a shitty day. Rather than staying with me last night, Ana insisted on returning to her apartment to spend time with her roommate and as a result, I didn't sleep well without her. Around two in the morning while I was at my piano, the thought of asking her to move in with me crossed my mind; I have the feeling, though, that she will say it's too soon. I'll give it another week before I bring it up.

Andrea gasps when she looks up from her computer and sees me, and she pales. It's not a reaction I've ever seen from her and it immediately puts me on edge.

"Good morning, Andrea," I say suspiciously. "Everything all right?"

She swallows hard. "Good morning, Mr. Grey," she replies, her voice surprisingly steady given her expression. "Miss Bailey is waiting in your office, sir."

Narrowing my eyes at her, I head into my office, unable to recall the last time Ros beat me here and waited for me in my office. When I enter, I find Ros sitting in front of my desk and she doesn't even bother to turn around to say hello. This can't be good.

"Good morning, Ros," I say as cheerfully as I can manage, dropping my messenger bag to the floor and sitting behind my desk. "How was your weekend away with Gwen?"

She doesn't even try to crack a smile. "I take it you haven't seen the news," she says evenly.

I raise an eyebrow. "What news?" I ask reluctantly. Whatever has put that look on Ros's face will probably have me throwing anything in my office that I can carry.

She slowly stands and walks around my desk, nudging me out of the way so she can access my computer. She opens the internet browser and types the address for a news website where the headline knocks the wind out of me.

 _ **Christian Grey: Wealthy CEO, One of the Country's Most Successful Entrepreneurs, Eligible Bachelor, Secret BDSM Life**_

"What the fuck," I breathe, staring at the screen. I skim the article that highlights my business accomplishments and the awards I've received over the few years since I started my company. Following that are comments from an anonymous source that outline and paraphrase the contracts my past submissives and I sign before beginning a relationship. It goes on to talk about the number of women I have had throughout the last seven years, though no names are present in the article.

"Tell me this is a fucking joke," Ros says quietly, pleadingly. "Christian, do you have any idea what this will do to us?"

I nod. "Yes," I respond quietly. "I know precisely what it will do to us." _It's why I've been so fucking careful to keep it quiet all these years._ "When did this break?"

"About half an hour ago," Ros answers, leaning against my desk. "It started with the _Seattle Nooz_ and I just assumed it was another bullshit story to discredit you, but then I checked the more reputable, national sources, and they had the same story. We need to get this under control, but I need to know if it's true, Christian."

I look at her and judging by the way her shoulders drop, I don't need to give her an audible answer to her question. "I want to know who is behind this and I want a fucking gag order on this story."

Ros nods. "I've already got legal working on it. PR has got their work cut out for them today. The phone lines are already jammed with reporters looking for a comment. If there isn't already a mob outside, it won't be long." She hesitates briefly. "Does Ana know?"

Normally I'd tell her to fuck off, but I only nod. "I don't want her dealing with this directly and I don't give a flying fuck how it will look to the rest of the company; I'm going to inform Taylor that the moment she arrives with her CPO, she's to be brought up here," I instruct.

"Maybe it would be best if she simply doesn't come in," Ros suggests.

"I agree, but she won't," I say, already weary of this day. "And if she's going to be here, I want her nearby. This affects her, too, even if the world hasn't figured it out yet."

Sighing, Ros nods again and pushes back to her feet. "I took the liberty of having Andrea cancel your schedule for the day. We've got fires to put out."

I should be pissed at her, but all I feel right now is numb as my mind runs through everything that will come from this. It's not just my business that will end up in ruins, but my family, the people who have loved me and taken care of me since I was four years old. I never wanted them to know about this part of my life and now I don't know if I'll ever be able to face them again. And Ana... Yes, she is fully aware of what my private life consisted of, more so after this weekend, but before now it was a private matter and she didn't have to deal with it apart from when she and I discussed it. Her family and friends will know now, and if they're smart and care for her in the slightest, they'll try to talk her out of being with me.

Once Ros is gone, I call Taylor and instruct him to make sure Ana gets here safely and without incident. He assures me he's already made arrangements with Sawyer and I think I detect a hint of sympathy in his voice, though I ignore it completely. I don't want anybody's fucking sympathy; I want this shit to go away.

While I wait on both my legal and public relations departments to finish whatever it is they're currently doing to handle this mess, try to figure out what I'm going to do when I undoubtedly hear from my family. I have worked so hard over the years to keep them from finding out about what I've been doing since I was fifteen because my biggest fear was that they would finally realize what I really am and turn their backs on me. I'd be a shame on the Grey family name and I would lose the support system I have depended on whether I wanted to admit it or not. My mother will be disappointed with me, something that hasn't happened since I dropped out of Harvard.

Naturally, I am mentally compiling a list of people who may have done this. It could be as simple as one of my submissives has talked, violating her NDA, but I don't believe that. It's not that I'm naïve enough to think they give enough of a shit for me to keep quiet; they know I have leverage against them that could just as easily ruin them as they could me. Once we get our hands on the contract that was submitted as proof of my extracurricular activities, it should be easy enough to figure out which one it is. There is only one other person, apart from my personal lawyers to whom I pay a significant amount of money to keep from violating privacy laws, who knows what I do in great detail and that is Elena.

The timing is convenient; it's only been a few days since I told her to mind her own fucking business. But I don't believe she's behind it. For one, I have as much if not more dirt on her as she has on me, and she is actually concerned about what people think of her. If it's revealed that she has participated in our lifestyle, she'll be alienated from her social circles; if it's revealed that she participated in our lifestyle with a minor, the son of her best friend, the best that will happen is that she's run out of town. I never bothered looking up the statute of limitations for an adult having sex with a minor, but if it's anything more than ten years, Elena could find herself in jail. She may piss me off by butting into my life, but I don't want that for her. However, if she is behind this, I will not think twice about running her into the ground.

My phone buzzes. "Mr. Grey, Sam and Joe are here to meet with you," says Andrea's disembodied voice.

I take a second to get myself under control and ready to face my legal and PR department heads. "Send them in," I say.

Thankfully, my staff is smart enough to keep any judgments or opinions about me and this situation to themselves. Right now I don't think I would mind firing a few people, whether they deserve it or not.

"Have a seat, gentlemen," I say, gesturing at the chairs in front of my desk. "Where are we on this situation?"

They exchange a glance before Sam begins. "The story broke suddenly this morning; there was no warning or any chance to cut it off at the pass. From what we've worked out in the last hour, it started with the _Seattle Nooz_ and spread to the other news outlets like wildfire."

"And who gave them the story?" I ask impatiently.

"We don't yet know, sir," Joe says quietly. "The _Nooz_ is refusing to reveal its source. Whatever deal was struck, a clause to assure the source's anonymity. Nevertheless, we're still digging."

"Do you wish to make any statement at this time, Mr. Grey?" Sam asks.

I sigh, running my fingers through my hair. "Not yet," I answer. "I want more information before I say a word to the media. Incidentally, Sam, I am transferring Anastasia Steele back to the acquisitions department."

Sam's mouth drops open. "Sir, we really need all hands on deck today regardless of experience. The phones haven't stopped ringing in more than an hour."

"Not negotiable," I say coldly. "I don't want her anymore involved in this than she needs to be."

Again, the two men exchange a glance as though they're silently trying to decide which of them will ask the question I know is on their minds at the moment. Joe loses the silent argument. "If I may ask, Mr. Grey, strictly for the sake of full disclosure in this matter, what is Miss Steele's role here?"

I glare at him, tempted to throw him out of my office window for even asking. Unfortunately, it's a reasonable question. If my team is going to fight this shit, they need to know anything that might pop up and bite us in the ass. "Miss Steele is my girlfriend," I inform them quietly. "She is not part of this; I want her protected from this, not dragged into it. When we do make a statement to the media, her name will not be mentioned and if anybody digs deeply enough to find out her name, it will become top priority to stomp that into the ground. Is that understood?"

Both men nod, clearly shocked by the revelation that I have a girlfriend. "If that is the case, sir, the media has a long memory and the story regarding the two of you being involved a few weeks ago will find its way out again despite our attempts to put a muzzle on it. This could easily be made worse if it is revealed that you're involved with an intern," Joe says cautiously.

"I'm aware of that. Do what you can."

I glance at my watch and see that it's about time for Ana to arrive for her day at work. I'd love nothing more than to meet her in the parking garage and spend the elevator ride back to the twentieth floor reassuring her that I will find a way to make this go away, it's better if I remain where I am for now.

I send Sam and Joe back to work and sit back in my chair, jumping when my BlackBerry buzzes with an incoming text message. I glance warily at the screen, wincing at the sight of the message from my brother:

 **Dude. What the fuck?!** **Call me!**

That didn't take long. For a minute I try to think of some response, but I know this is a conversation that cannot be had via text message or a phone call. Rather than replying to Elliot, I send my father a message asking if we can have dinner this evening with the family. Part of me thinks it would be better to have this conversation once and get it out of the way rather than being forced to endure it multiple times. Carrick's response is a simple _Yes, of course. 7 o'clock,_ and I know he's been waiting for me to make the first move.

There is a soft knock on my door and while I'm tempted to tell whoever it is to fuck off, I call for them to enter and I relax immediately when Ana walks in, closing the door behind her. She remains near the door watching me cautiously. Just having her in the room with me makes me forget everything for a moment; it's comforting.

"Good morning," I say quietly.

She finally approaches my desk and before she can sit with it between us, I'm on my feet walking around and meeting her, pulling her into my arms. She wraps her own arms around my waist as though she instinctively knows where to touch me. I press my nose into her hair, inhaling her unique Ana scent. "Good morning," she whispers, resting her forehead against my chest. Strangely it doesn't evoke the usual fearful response. "How are you?"

I huff a humorless laugh. "Wishing we were still in Aspen," I say wryly, eliciting a weak chuckle from her. "I take it you've heard?"

She nods. "It's everywhere. It took fifteen minutes to get through the crowd of photographers and into the underground garage."

I sigh, pulling Ana over to the couch and into my lap. I know I'll have to get back to work shortly, but right now this is what I need. "This feels like a fucking nightmare," I admit quietly. "And I don't know even know where to begin fixing any of it."

"Do you know who's behind it?" she asks tentatively.

"No," I say grudgingly. "But my legal team is digging."

"Why am I up here instead of at my desk?"

"Because this is where you're needed," I tell her, pressing my lips to her temple. "This is where I need you today. Ros is going to have her hands full dealing with questions from companies associated with GEH. We won't know how this will affect the company until later. If you could help her with whatever she needs done, we'd both appreciate it."

She nods, leaning up to kiss me. I gasp at the contact and while I'm sure she only expected it to be a chaste kiss, my fingers twist in her hair and I'm kissing her like it's the last time I'll get the chance. Though I hate to admit it, this might be the last chance when all is said and done. Who the hell knows what's going to come out of the cracks after this.

My phone rings, breaking up our moment and Ana crawls out of my lap. I smirk briefly as I watch her fix her hair and clothes, and she rolls her eyes at me, smiling. I answer my phone as she leaves and I feel despair settling in again.

* * *

By the end of the day, I'm exhausted and angry, and just plain done with everyone and everything. My lawyers have managed to put a gag order on the _Seattle Nooz_ ; since they're the source of this shit, they've got all the evidence and are slowly leaking it to other media outlets at what I understand to be a sizable fee. This is good news; the only story that will be reported for the time being is the one that broke this morning. Now we just need to get our hands on whatever information the _Nooz_ currently has and their source. Putting out the fires will take time, but I'm assured by a number of people that it can and will be done.

The moment I've dreaded all morning has arrived as Taylor pulls up in front of my parents' Bellevue home. Thankfully the media hasn't decided to camp out here the way they have Grey House and Escala. Before I left GEH, Ana offered to come with me, but I sent her home; I want her to meet my family but not under these circumstances. She then offered to meet me back at Escala and I declined. I don't know how late I'm going to be tonight or what sort of mood I'll be in when this is over, and the last thing I want is to take out my frustrations on her. She told me to at least call her when I leave my parents' home and I assured her I would. It might help to hear her voice.

The front door opens before I reach it and I stop at the sight of my father looking as haggard as I feel. I'm half-expecting him to tell me I'm no longer welcome here and send me home. Instead he musters a tired smile. "Hell of a day, son," he says.

"Understatement," I mutter in return, relieved when he steps back and holds the door open for me. I glance down at the glass of what I assume is brandy in his hand.

"Come on, I'll get you one," he says gently, seeing where my eyes have drifted. "Your mother is finishing dinner and Elliot should be here shortly. In the meantime, I want you to tell me about this girl you're seeing."

I frown at Carrick. He sounds so normal all things considered and I'm not entirely certain how to handle it. Typically growing up, when one of us was in trouble he didn't beat around the bush before lecturing us or giving us his opinion on our behavior. He sure as hell didn't offer me a glass of brandy when I dropped out of Harvard or change the subject that was on both our minds. "That's what you want to talk about?" I ask disbelievingly.

He leads me to his office and pours me a glass of brandy before turning to me. "Right now, yes," he answers. "We'll deal with the rest later."

Sighing, I accept the glass and sit in the chair I always occupied when I was in trouble. Predictably Carrick walks around his desk and drops into his own chair. Sipping at our drinks, I tell my father about Anastasia and the troubles she had with Benjamin Reese. He offers to check in on the case to ensure it's being handled correctly to avoid a mistrial or anything else that might get him back onto the streets. We talk about our weekend trip to Aspen and how Ana and I spent most of a day hiking. Carrick seems jealous; he doesn't get much chance to indulge in his favorite outdoor activities as of late and he clearly misses it. I make a mental note to arrange for the whole family to go out on _The Grace_ sometime soon, assuming any of them are still speaking to me of course.

A single knock on the open office door gets our attention and we turn to find Elliot leaning inside. "Hey, Mom says come to dinner," he announces, his eyes resting speculatively on me. It's as though he's realizing he's never really known me, which I suppose it true; my family has never said it out loud, but I know they've always believed me to be gay and celibate. Now they know differently.

To my surprise, my mother greets me as she normally does with a kiss on the cheek and a smile before we sit around the table. "How are you, sweetheart?" she asks concernedly.

This isn't going at all like I thought it would. No one is looking at me with disdain or disgust or like I'm a monster. "I'm fine," I assure her quietly. "It's been a long day."

Elliot looks between the three of us with questions on the tip of his tongue. "Is anyone going to address the elephant in the room?" he asks tentatively, gauging my mood.

I sigh. "Look, this isn't something I ever wanted any of you to know about," I admit quietly, unable to meet their gazes. "I don't want to talk specifics, but what the papers are saying about me is true to a point."

"So what, you've got some secret sex dungeon we don't know about?" Elliot asks boldly. I glare at him and his lack of tact.

"Elliot," my parents snap in unison.

Carrick turns to me. "Son, what you do in the privacy of your home is your business," he says firmly despite his obvious discomfort at the subject. "It's unfortunate that it's been publicized, but it makes no difference to us. I'm more worried about the effect it will have on your business than anything."

I stare at their faces, all of them shining with love and support, something I wouldn't have recognized before meeting Ana. They all agree with my father's words even if they're still uncertain about me. "My legal and PR teams are doing everything they can to stop this from going any farther. So far we haven't lost any associates, but I suspect one or two will take their business elsewhere. Beyond that, I don't know how far it will go."

"If you need anything, let me know," Carrick says. "There is a case here for defamation of character."

"How could there be a case for defamation of character?" Elliot asks seriously. "He just said it was true."

"And my understanding of the situation is that there have been violations of non-disclosure agreements," Carrick replies, glancing at me for confirmation. I nod. "Anything said that is protected by an NDA is defamation and hearsay."

I don't know how accurate that is considering it seems as though one of the submissive contracts has been leaked, but it's comforting enough knowing that my father has my back on this.

Dinner goes on and the topic of conversation changes to more mundane things. Afterwards we take our drinks into the family room where everyone looks at me expectantly and I decide to volunteer a little more information than I would have wanted. Of course I leave out the parts about how Elena introduced me to the lifestyle; I'm not sure they could take that. Despite their discomfort, there are questions, the most awkward of which come from my brother. My mother couldn't meet my gaze for long which hurts, but I certainly understand it; to her I'm her sweet little boy who spent his life hiding his darkness and the monster within him. She's seeing that with her own eyes now. My only relief from the evening is that my sister isn't here. She's the only person who didn't treat me differently growing up and now I fear that will change as well.

It's nearly ten o'clock when I finally leave my parents' house, but the thought of going home to Escala and being alone tonight after everything I've dealt with today is deplorable. I'm angry and confused; upset and afraid. And there is only one person in the world who could help me right now.


	23. Chapter 23

At least four times on the drive from Bellevue to Ana's apartment, I've changed my mind about seeing her tonight. It's late and my mood isn't the best; she shouldn't be forced to endure me in this state. But the fact of the matter is that I need her and I'm selfish enough to ignore everything else.

I knock softly on the apartment door. I'll wait a few moments and if she doesn't answer, I'll assume she's asleep and go home. To both my relief and disappointment, I hear the locks opening followed shortly by the door. Kate is dressed in a tiny pair of shorts and a camisole; I assume she probably expected my brother at this late hour and didn't bother covering herself. The smile on her face slides away when she sees me and she takes on a defensive stature.

"What are you doing here?" she asks quietly.

I raise an eyebrow. I don't think she and I will ever be friends, but she's always been polite enough to me, probably for Ana's sake. "I've come to see Anastasia," I say. "Is she awake?"

Kate purses her lips, crossing her arms. "Maybe," she says. "You were big news today."

Sighing in an attempt to keep my temper, I give her a tight smile. "Yes, it seems that I was," I agree evenly. "Now may I see Ana?"

"Fine, but I'll tell you now that if you hurt her in any way, you'll answer to me, Grey," she says sternly.

I'm sure there are men who are intimidated by her; I'm not one of them, but I'll play the game if it gets me what I want. "Fair enough, Miss Kavanagh," I say, trying for something between chided and contrite.

Judging by her expression, I don't manage it very well. "She's in her room."

Rolling my eyes, I move past her, eagerly moving down the hall. Thankfully, Ana's bedroom light is shining from beneath the door which means she's awake. She distractedly calls for me to enter after I knock and I do so, smiling. She's in bed, caught up in whatever book she's reading, and for a minute I just stand in the doorway watching her. It doesn't seem as though she's changed her mind about me, but I know better than most how deceiving looks can be.

Finally she looks up, frowning in confusion until she sees me and her expression changes to surprise and I think she's pleased that I'm here. It's a relief. "Christian," she says quietly, concern in her eyes. "What are you doing here?"

I shrug, still standing beside the door. "I needed to see you," I answer quietly, growing more uncertain by the moment. "Is it okay that I'm here?"

She gives me a shy smile. "Yes, of course," she says. "I'm just surprised..." She studies me closely for a moment then adds, "How did it go with your family?"

Sighing, I push away from the door and tentatively sit beside her on her bed. She sits up, crossing her legs beneath the blankets, and reaches out for the hand I rested between us. I smile at her touch, watching with wonder as her fingers softly caress my knuckles. It's the same as it was this morning in my office when she calmed me with her presence. "It could have been much worse," I murmur. "My mother could barely look at me. My father hid his true thoughts with concern for my business. And my brother asked awkward questions to break up the tension." I reluctantly crack a grin. "At least my sister wasn't there, but once she gets home next week, I'm sure she'll have questions. The good news with that is she's the least judgmental person I know, save you, Miss Steele."

"I'm glad it went okay," she says sincerely. "I've been thinking about you."

It's my turn to be surprised. "You have?" I ask. I still have trouble believing she could want me even though we've both declared our feelings for each other. It seems too good to be true and I'm waiting for the moment reality kicks in again and I lose her.

"Yes," she says, amusement in her voice. "I always think about you when you're not around."

Closing my eyes, I savor her words, willing myself to believe them. "Ditto, Anastasia," I whisper, opening my eyes to look at her again. Her eyes are wide and dark, an expression I've come to discover means that she wants me. Blood is pounding through my veins as I harden. After one of the shittiest days I've experienced in a long time, all I want is bury myself in her and forget. I can't, though, not yet. There are still things I need to know. "Kate seemed displeased to see me."

Ana rolls her eyes, though I think it has more to do with her roommate than me. "She'll get over it," she grumbles.

"Did she try talking you out of being with me?" I murmur anxiously.

"Yes," she admits. "But after I told her it's none of her business what you and I do, I told her you're nothing like the media is making you out to be."

She has such faith in me in only the short time since we've known one another. It's one of the many reasons I love her. "I was worried you'd change your mind," I say quietly.

"Change my mind?" she asks in confusion. "What about?"

I meet and hold her gaze. "Us," I whisper reluctantly. "The world is starting to realize what I am and that will change how I'm seen and how I do business. I could lose everything if this goes any farther. My own family is already treating me differently even if they're trying to hide it. Until now, only a handful of people had even an inkling of what I do in my private time. Now I'm being perceived as a monster preying on young woman so I can tie them up and fuck and beat them." She fights hard to hide her wince at my words. "All the people I associate with, everyone I know will be affected by this, including you. Your friends and family will tell you I'm dangerous—and they would be right. Before long people will start wondering about you and whether I've pulled you into my lifestyle, and they'll start treating you differently. There will always be suspicion that I've brainwashed you in order to have you. And you shouldn't be forced to deal with that; you shouldn't have to stand in a supermarket checkout line and see your face next to mine on every tabloid magazine and read the filth they come up with as headlines. You deserve better than that, Ana."

She frowns at me in disapproval, I think. "You deserve better than that, too," she whispers emphatically. A second later, she crawls across the bed and straddles my lap. I'm so surprised by the move that it takes a few moments before I wrap my arms around her waist. "Christian, nothing about you has changed since this morning. You're still the same man you've always been even if people know a little more about you than you want them to know. Anybody who knows you will realize that once their surprise wanes. And really, who the hell cares about this? I seriously doubt you're the only man in the world who has ever tied a woman up to have sex with them and I'm just as certain there are men who do worse than you ever could. As for it affecting me and how my friends and family see me... aren't you the one who's been saying all along that it doesn't matter what people think? That the only thing that matters is how we see each other?"

I swallow hard, unable to accurately articulate what her words mean to me. She thinks I'm a good man despite the reality of the situation. I could claim she's young and naïve, and as a result she sees only good in the world, but I know better. She's seen the bad recently and she won't let herself be blinded again. I know her well enough to know that. My relief is palpable as I crush my lips to her in a desperate kiss. But it's not enough; I turn and place her back on the bed without breaking our kiss and her fingers are in my hair, twisting almost to the point of pain. It feels so fucking amazing and I kiss her deeper, with every ounce of passion I possess. "Thank you," I breathe against her lips. "You have no idea what that means to me, Anastasia."

She smiles, tilting her hips up to grind against mine. "I think I can tell," she says coyly, making me laugh briefly.

"No, you can't," I say softly, tracing her jawline with a finger. Before I think about it too much and talk myself out of it, I push up to my knees and quickly remove my shirt. Ana's eyes are on me, watching me hungrily. I take her hands to pull her upright. Hesitantly, wondering if this is the worst idea I've ever had, I place her hands directly on my chest and wait for the darkness to rise—the fear, the pain, the memories. Her eyes are wide and her mouth in the shape of an _o_. My breathing has changed to pants, though it's not for the usual reasons. It's from relief and arousal at the realization that a woman is touching me and I'm not having a panic attack.

Her fingers flex and I drop my hands, watching her softly slide her hands down my chest until her fingers tease the line above my pants and I harden further. She looks up at my in concern and uncertainty. I give her a small smile and nod, knowing she wants to explore further and realizing that I want her to, too.

She returns my smile and we both watch her hands move back up my body. I'm shaking now, but more because I want her than because of fear. When her hands slide up my shoulders and wrap around my neck, I'm done holding back and push her back down onto the pillows. Kissing her, touching her, undressing her, our mutual desire only grows.

After so many years of not being touched, of fearing it, my skin is highly sensitized and both desperate for more and unable to handle it any longer. I pull her hands away, moving them above her head. When I remove my hands, hers stay in place as though she somehow understands that I can't take much more. I look at her trying to silently communicate everything that I'm feeling, but it's an impossible task.

"Whatever it is you're doing to me, Anastasia," I whisper in a low, serious voice, "please don't ever stop."

She shakes her head. "I don't think I could if I tried," she admits shyly.

I desperately hope it's the truth; losing her would end me and all the fight I'm putting into saving my business reputation in light of this media shit storm will be pointless. Though I hadn't come here with the intention of fucking her until we're both completely lost, I dig into my pants pocket, thankful that I impulsively grabbed a couple of condoms this morning. I quickly finish undressing, but as I begin to roll the condom over myself impatiently, she stops me.

"What?" I breathe, meeting her gaze. "You don't want to?" I try to conceal my disappointment; after what just happened between us, after breaking down another one of my defensive barriers, I need her.

"No, I do want to," she says quickly. "But I started taking the pill."

My eyes widen. "What?" I whisper in surprise that is quickly replaced with desperate need. "When?"

She bites her lip against a smile. "A week ago."

A slow smile begins to grow on my lips and I quickly dispose of the condom, dropping to brace my arms beside her. "Well, Miss Steele," I murmur, running my nose alongside hers. "You're just full of surprises aren't you?"

Before she can answer, I crush my lips against hers and we kiss like it's the end of the world. Only a moment ago, I wanted to fuck her hard and fast in an attempt to forget the day and whatever else waits for me tomorrow, but now I want to feel every last inch of her wrapped around me, her warmth and wetness and tightness. So slowly, I press into her and I watch her eyes glaze over and widen and her mouth open in a silent gasp. Nothing has ever felt more perfect. We fit together as though we were made for each other. The thought is heady and one I always considered to be bullshit romanticism before Ana; now I can see why men in love turn into sappy morons. The women we love bring it out in us and it's unavoidable.

"Christian," she breathes into my ear once I'm completely buried inside of her.

I nip her jawline on the way to her ear. "You feel fucking incredible, baby," I tell her reverentially. "I think I could live here, inside of you, for the rest of my life." She whimpers in response and I have no more words. Slowly I begin to move, savoring every clenching muscle around me, wanting more, wanting everything she's willing to give. And I want to give her everything I have in return.

Time has no meaning when we're together like this and it could be hours have passed before her breath hitches. She's close and I want to see her come undone around me. "Open your eyes, baby," I whisper against her lips. She does and the look in her eyes could be enough to finish me off, but I hold back. For the first time, I pick up speed and when she tips her head back and screams my name, I'm pounding into her so hard I fear I'll bruise her. It only takes two more thrusts into her before I press my mouth between her shoulder and neck, muffling my cries as I come harder than I can ever remember coming before.

I feel her arms around my neck, holding me against her and I hold her tighter against me. "Shh," she breathes into my hair and it takes me a minute to figure out it's because I'm crying. I don't remember the last time I cried, but I suspect it was before Carrick and Grace Grey saved me. I don't make a sound as tears leak from my eyes and the only explanation I have for this sudden emotional break is relief at the realization that it doesn't matter to this woman who I was or what I did before her; she loves me and I her, and that gives me the power and strength to fight anything that tries to come between us.

* * *

"Can I ask you something?" Ana whispers from her position on my chest. Her head is resting above my heart and I don't mind one bit.

"Of course you can," I murmur, my fingers absentmindedly up and down the side of her ribs.

I wait a moment for her to speak again and wonder if she's fallen asleep, but she takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly, and I know she was only trying to steel herself to ask whatever she wants to ask. "Everything you've turned your back on since we met, your lifestyle, did you do that only because of me?" she asks in a small voice.

I frown at her question as I think it through. Did I do it only because of her? I shift slightly so that I'm on my side and can meet her gaze. She looks nervous. "Not only because of you," I answer, tucking her hair behind her ear. "I think it started out that way, but then I started to realize how empty it was. I never concerned myself with the needs of whatever woman I was with; she was there to serve my purpose and if she received pleasure at the same time, then good for her. I know it sounds cold and heartless, and it was. But I met you and suddenly the way I saw the world changed completely." I cup her cheek as she gazes wide-eyed at me. "My life was ordered and controlled before I met you, and so fucking boring." I give her a crooked grin that she returns. "I don't see it as giving up anything; I see it as finding a new path, one I never thought I would discover, and before you, I didn't want to discover it. My world was what it was; I don't ever want to go back to that emptiness, not now that I know there is a new, better way to live."

I close my eyes for a second and think about today, how I felt when I realized I could lose everything I've built over the years. "Ana, I don't know what will happen with this information leak. I could lose everything and drag you down with me. For the last thirteen years, I dedicated myself to ensuring that I would never end up living in poverty or going hungry ever again. I've told you what my early childhood was like; that's why I got into the things I'm into. That's why my company is what it is. Those things kept me on track. But now I have you to keep me on track and if by some fucked up chance I lose everything, I could still get by if I have you."

She swallows hard, tears built up in her eyes. I would think I'd upset her if she wasn't smiling hugely at me. "I love you," she whispers, leaning in to kiss me briefly.

I smile against her lips. "And I you, Anastasia," I murmur. "Thank you."

Her brow furrows. "For what?" she asks.

I can only shrug because I can't think of a way to express everything she does for me. "For you," I reply, pulling her to rest against me again. I nuzzle my nose into her hair, my arms around her. "I'm exhausted, baby. Sleep now."

She says something to me, but I can't make out the words as sleep takes me.

* * *

Over the last few days, I somehow feel lighter than I was before the news of my alternative lifestyle hit. I know Ana is responsible and I couldn't be more grateful to whatever outside forces that brought us together in the first place. The media continues to speculate and report about me, but it hasn't yet escalated, thankfully. We still haven't been able to get our hands on whatever information was sold to the _Seattle Nooz_ ; it's gotten to the point now that I've asked Barney to hack into their servers to get it. He's been unsuccessful so far and suspects that they were smart enough to not store any of it on their computer hard drives but on portable flash drives. That hasn't stopped us from digging and throwing up barriers to prevent any further information from getting out to the public.

To my great relief, the impact on my company has been minimal so far. A few of the more wholesome family companies have backed out of deals, but Ros is confident that as long as nothing else comes up, we'll be fine. It seems Ana was right; the people who know me aren't turning their backs on me. Ros eyes me a little more curiously than she used to, but we interact the way we always have. I never thought I cared about the opinions of the people around me; maybe it's Ana's presence in my life that's changed things, but knowing Ros supports me and won't walk away because of a few stories about me.

I'm starting to think that what I've been doing for so long isn't the crime against humanity I've believed it to be for so long. The world changes every day; things that were once considered taboo are becoming more mainstream and people don't blink when they hear about them. Perhaps the only reason why this feels like a big deal is because I'm in the public eye and the nosy bastards who obsess over celebrities' private lives only fuel the fire. I hate the thought that my life is being discussed amongst the world. I hate that my parents are practically prisoners in their own home right now because the media is trying to get at me through them. It won't be long before they start to go after Ana as well. All my instincts tell me to keep her safe at all costs, even if it means pushing her away until she no longer has any connection with me, but I know I couldn't do that if I tried. She is the only thing keeping me from losing it all completely.

My PR team assures me interest is already dying out; BDSM isn't the hot button issue it once was. And, as my personal attorney bravely informed me, it's not as though I was caught engaging in sexual relations in a public like so many of my fellow public figures. Lucky for him, I was in a decent mood after spending the night with Ana and decided firing him for his comment would have been an overreaction.

Andrea's voice comes through my desk phone. "Mr. Grey, you have a call from Miss Veronica Bartley," she says. "I tried to take a message, but she was quite insistent that I inform you of her call immediately."

I stare at my phone in surprise. Veronica Bartley isn't a name I've heard or even thought of for close to four years; the last I heard she was starting medical school. "I'll take the call," I say to Andrea. "Hold all my other calls and meetings."

Before Andrea is able to work up a response to articulate her surprise at my instructions, I pick up the phone and take the call. "Miss Bartley," I say evenly. "It's been a while."

"Mr. Grey," she says in a similar tone. "I do apologize for calling out of the blue, but I've been made aware of your current troubles."

I lean back in my chair. Veronica is one of my former submissives and one of the few who lasted long term. We were together nearly a year before we mutually ended our contract. She wanted to go back to school and our arrangement was becoming redundant for both of us. There were no hard feelings between us and every so often, I receive an email from her. It only occurs to me now that it's not just my life and the lives of my immediate circle that are affected, but also my former submissives'. Their lives could be ruined just as thoroughly as mine could.

"I think the entire world is aware of my current troubles," I respond drolly. "What can I do for you, Miss Bartley? If you're concerned about an invasion of your privacy, I can assure you I am working relentlessly so neither you or anyone else I've been involved with is affected."

"I'm sure you are," she says confidently. "I know how closely you covet your privacy. The reason I'm calling is because I was contacted yesterday afternoon by a news outlet— _US Weekly_ , to be exact—and it seems they received word of our involvement a few years back and offered me quite the fee if I agreed to tell them everything I know about both you and your past relationships."

 _Fucking hell..._ I should have seen this coming. "Dare I ask your response?" I ask, though I already know what she will say.

"I declined their offer," she says. "They're persistent, though, so I suspect I'll hear from them again."

And now I have to worry about fourteen other submissives who might not have the same moral compass as Veronica. "Did they happen to mention how exactly they discovered a link between us?"

She sighs. "I asked, but they were cagey about it. My best guess is that another of your... exes is talking," she says regretfully. I'm grateful for her change in terminology; my paranoia makes me wonder whether my phones are tapped. "I assure you it isn't a story they got from me."

"I know," I say quietly, "and I appreciate your call. This issue is far reaching and frustrating to no end."

"I'm sure it is," she says and I can hear the sympathy in her voice. "I certainly hope this dies down soon; you don't deserve this, Sir."

For a moment I'm thrown off, first by her assertion and sincerity and second, by her way of addressing me. I can't remember the last time someone used the word "sir" on me in that manner, and for a long time, it provided me with a sense of power and control; now it doesn't affect me at all. I clear my throat, shaking myself from my thoughts. "Well, thank you," I say stiffly. "If you're contacted any further, please let me know."

She assures me that she will and we quickly wrap up the conversation; afterwards, I drop my face into my hands. How is it possible that this situation only gets worse as time goes on? We've looked into my former submissives insofar as to work out whether they might be a part of this problem and since none of them seemed to be involved, I haven't given them any more thought.

Now I have to decide whether to contact them myself or have my lawyers or even Taylor deal with it. I'm not particularly eager to talk to any of them, but I see now it's becoming a necessity.

I glance at my computer at the sound of an email alert and open the program to find two new messages, the first of which I ignore in favor of the one from my lawyers. Inside the message is a short note informing me that they have finally been successful in wheedling information from _Seattle Nooz_ regarding their anonymous tip that started this bullshit. I open it eagerly, hoping for something that will tell me who is behind this. It's one of my contracts as I suspected, but rather than seeing hints that it has been doctored, it's blank. No name apart from mine, no address, no signatures, no dates. It's the exact form I print out and hand prospective submissives outlining my rules, punishments, and hard and soft limits. The only way to gain access to this is by hacking into my personal computers at home—I never open this contract at work—or my lawyers' servers. That shouldn't be possible; the firewalls on my personal computers are stronger than the Pentagon's and my lawyers' are nearly as good.

So how the fuck did someone manage to get a hard copy of something only fifteen women and I have ever seen? The contracts are signed in front of me and I've never allowed a submissive to take one home without her signature on the dotted line first. They receive a copy for their own records and perusal, and I always keep the original locked in my safe alongside background checks, photos, and whatever else I deem important.

Elena's name pops into my mind again. During our six-year affair, we never signed contracts; I only started that when I was starting to build my company to protect myself. Of course she knows about the contracts; she helped me outline them. But to my knowledge, she has never had access to them.

Suddenly I think back to when Ana first told me about Benjamin Reese and how fucking irritated I was that she ignored the signs right in front of her that screamed about her being in danger. She could have told me about this the day of the Taiwan trip when she spotted the fucker outside Grey House. Taylor noticed something off about her and mentioned it to me in passing on the way to the airport, but I didn't know her well enough to demand answers from her. I'd spent that whole week trying to convince myself that showing any interest or concern for her would be a bad idea for the both of us. All the signs she ignored that he was in her apartment repeatedly—anything could have happened to her and I wouldn't be able to do anything about it.

Is ignoring Elena's possible involvement in this problem of mine really any different? It's not physical harm I'm facing, but I have everything else to lose and my only reasoning for not digging into Elena is because she's my friend—or she was until recently—and I've convinced myself she wouldn't do anything that might ruin my life. Besides, more than once she has butted into my private life where Ana is involved and has done quite a lot to break us up. This could be her newest tactic... And if it is, I will burn her to the ground without a second thought.

While I debate whether to contact Elena directly, I get a text message from Mia informing me that she'll be home Friday night and she's demanding family time on the boat this weekend and if I don't bring my new girlfriend that everyone is talking about, I shouldn't bother showing up. I grin at both her demands and the fact that she called Ana my girlfriend. I suppose it's an accurate assessment even though I hadn't thought to put a label on our relationship. It's not particularly surprising that she hasn't mentioned the news about me; she's more likely to grill me in person. But perhaps if we're surrounded by family and Anastasia, she'll put it off.

Not likely, but a man can hope...


	24. Chapter 24

True to our word, Ana and I have stopped concerning ourselves with who sees us together. We certainly don't flaunt our relationship at work, but I'm no longer pretending she's nothing more to me than an employee and it feels good. Weirdly I'm handling everything better now including the repeated attempts from news agencies varying from the _National Enquirer_ to CNN to get me to give interviews regarding the claims being made about me. I'm not interested in the slightest about talking to anyone about it and the official statement is that I will not comment on my personal life as it doesn't affect my professional one. Assuming we don't lose more than a handful of the contracts in GEH's portfolio, I will stand by that statement.

I've contacted several of my former submissives to remind them of their signed Non-Disclosure Agreements and assuring them in the politest way possible that I will happily drag them down with me if they fuck me over. The more professionally prominent submissives swore on everything they have that they have no interest in betraying me. A few of them told me I was the best Dominant they ever had which took me by surprise as did the thought that they weren't just referring to all the gifts I showered them with during our time together. I don't particularly care one way or the other how they feel about me as long as they keep their mouths shut, but I suppose it's a good thing they don't seem to have any real complaints. I'd be more worried if the breakups were messy; those are the women who wouldn't hesitate to give full accounts of our relationships.

Every night this week, Ana has stayed with me at Escala and it has done wonders for me. Though I occasionally wake up in the middle of the night and slip out of my bed to play my piano, Ana always finds her way to the spot on the bench beside me. We never speak; she simply rests her head on my shoulder and listens to me play until I take her hand and lead her back to bed. Most mornings I'm up early and out the door for work before Ana needs to be there, so we don't get to have breakfast together or ride to Grey House together, but I'm hoping once this scandal fades away, that will change. Probably the biggest surprise is that I welcome the sudden changes to my home routine and sharing my apartment with somebody who isn't staff. I can glance around my bedroom and see the evidence of Ana everywhere. A few of her things are scattered on my bathroom counter. She left a pair of her shoes and a jacket in the bedroom. The side of my bed where she sleeps even smells like her now. It wouldn't be too much of a stretch for Ana to move in with me, would it?

Shaking myself from the thought, I focus on driving to the marina. Ana has been quiet for most of the morning. The only exception was during the shower we took together when she was screaming my name while I pounded her into the shower wall. I assume it's nerves about meeting my family, which I understand; I'm a little nervous myself. Grace has already met her, but that was when Ana was hospitalized and before the world began to learn what I am. And of course Elliot has known her for weeks due to all the time he's been spending with Kate Kavanagh. I'm not concerned about her meeting Mia; Mia will love her based solely on the fact that Ana is the first girl I've ever introduced to my family. Carrick, on the other hand, has always been overprotective of me. I spent so much of my time in trouble growing up and Carrick always took it upon himself to know where I was going, what I was doing, and who I was doing it with to make sure I didn't fall in with a "bad crowd." He backed off a little after Elena and I got together and he thought I was finally getting my shit straight, but recent events have undoubtedly brought those protective instincts back to the surface. The concern is that he'll link Ana in with what the news is reporting about me and assume she's bad for me or some other bullshit.

What he doesn't understand is that Ana is the best thing in the world for me. I've lost interest in my old life. I don't have that urge to drag comely little brunette submissive into my playroom to punish and fuck her to my satisfaction. The little bit of kink I've introduced Ana to has gone well and I wouldn't mind trying some more, but the thought of hurting her in any real way is abhorrent and makes me sick to my stomach. In the short time we've known each other, Ana has done more to help me than all the therapists I've ever seen. I'm admitting that while I might have a heart somewhere inside me and it has become hers. A few months ago the thought of hearts and flowers and love were ridiculous; now I wonder how I lived my life without it. I don't want it with anybody else but Anastasia and I don't want her to have with anybody else.

"They're going to love you," I murmur to Ana, reaching over to take her hand and squeezing it gently. "Just like I do."

She turns to look at me and the smile she gives me could easily distract me enough that I drive us both into a tree. I force myself to look away to avoid killing us both, but I can still feel her gaze on me. "You know at some point you'll have to meet my parents," she says quietly.

"I suppose that's true. Any tips?" I ask, my lips twitching in amusement as I feel her relaxing beside me.

"Aside from letting this whole BDSM thing blow over a little, not really," she answers and I know she's mostly teasing. "I think my mom will be thrilled that I've finally met somebody and Ray's only real concern will be my happiness. He won't judge you by what the media is saying; he'll be able to read everything about you within the first half hour and make his decision about you."

Meeting a woman's father is something else I've never done and from what I understand about Raymond Steele, he won't be impressed by my wealth or all of the success I've gained with my company. He'll see right through all the barriers I've erected to intimidate those around me enough that they won't bother digging into anything about me.

But that is a problem for another day. Today, I'm taking my boat out on the open water for the first time in weeks and Ana is with me. I don't know why I haven't thought to bring her out on the boat before now aside from the fact that when I sail, I prefer to be alone. The thought of spending the entire day without having to worry about dealing with the press or stalkers or the rest of the world would be perfect for the both of us like it was in Aspen. Hell, there is a bed I would love to christen with her; unfortunately with my family present that will not be happening today.

"Here we are," I announce softly, pulling into a spot and parking the car. "Ready?"

She gives me a tenuous smile. "Not really," she admits.

I laugh, bringing her fingers to my lips to kiss her knuckles. "I promise it will be fine," I say against her skin. "And if it's not, we'll jump off the boat and swim until we find a deserted island."

Her smile turns more genuine. "I'm not that great of a swimmer," she says.

"I'm a strong enough swimmer for the both of us," I assure her. "You can ride on my back." I don't know what's gotten into me suggesting such ridiculous scenarios, but I blame Ana. I can't remember another time I've acted so playful and happy, though acting isn't the right word for it; I feel light and carefree and I have no idea how to begin thanking her for bringing this out in me.

Before I turn sappy, I kiss her knuckles one last time and release her hand. "Come on. The sooner we get out on the water the sooner we can eat. We kind of rushed breakfast this morning and I'm starving."

She grins at me as she gets out of the car. "That's because someone interrupted me in the shower and delayed me from starting breakfast," she accuses sternly. The effect is ruined by the flush in her cheeks as she recalls that shower.

"Absolutely worth it," I tell her with a thousand megawatt smile. "I wouldn't mind a repeat performance later if you're in the mood."

She bites her lip but releases it before I can do it for her. "I don't know about later," she says quietly. "But I'm in the mood now."

I close my eyes and take several deep breaths to avoid the temptation of loading her back into the car, driving back home, and dragging her into my bedroom to take advantage of her mood. If I didn't think Mia would show up uninvited if we were no-shows, I'd follow through on my silent threats in a heartbeat. "You're going to be the death of me," I say to her. She beams back, pleased. Rolling my eyes at her and unable to hide my amusement, I grab the backpack we packed with our bathing suits and the cooler of beer I decided we would need if for no other reason than to deal with my siblings.

I walk around the car to find Ana looking around the marina with interest. She's beautiful today just as she is every day, but today she looks like a college coed with her little yellow sundress and her hair tied up in a braid. I watched her fix her hair this morning trying to fight my growing erection as thoughts of having her in my playroom exploded in my brain. She asked what I was thinking about; I bent the truth a little and told her I was thinking about calling today off and staying home with her.

Taking her hand in mine, we walk the distance down the dock and I watch Ana's eyes widen further as the boats grow larger. "Ever been on a boat before?" I ask casually, releasing her hand so I can put my arm around her.

"Nothing like this," she says, looking up at me and resting her head on my shoulder. "Little fishing boats mostly with my dad."

"Well, this is a little different," I say, slowing down so we have more time alone. "Sailing is one of my favorite things to do. It's freeing being out on the water with no one expecting anything of you. If you enjoy this, maybe I'll take you soaring one day."

She smiles shyly the way we both do when one of us mentions doing something together in the future. It's like neither of us can believe what we have is real and we're just waiting for the other to come to their senses and end things. "I'd like that," she says softly.

"I would, too," I admit, realizing it would be the first time anybody has ever gone soaring with me. It's always been an escape, somewhere I could feel alone and free for a little while. The thought of sharing that time with anybody never crossed my mind until now.

At the end of the dock, we finally reach _The Grace_ and we stop just to admire it briefly. I remember the day she was finished and how proud I was to finally take her out onto the water for the first time. If my work is my wife, _The Grace_ is my baby and if something ever happens to her, I know I'll be devastated.

Glancing at the awe on Ana's face, I start rethinking that metaphor. Yes, my work is important to me and it always will be, but recently it's taken a backseat to the woman in my arms. Before I think too hard on what that means for us and undoubtedly freak myself out, I tug on Ana's hand and pull her towards the plank leading up to the deck. We've barely set foot onto the boat when I hear squealing from the wheelhouse and Mia comes barreling towards us. I quickly drop everything I'm carrying and brace myself as my little sister wraps her arms around me tightly. Aside from Ana, Mia is the only person in my life who can touch me like this. From the time she was a tiny baby, I knew Mia needed to be protected from both the world and from me; that's true now more than ever, but the point is that I never considered her a threat in any way.

"Good to see you, too, Mia," I murmur, pressing a kiss to her forehead before releasing her. The rest of my family joins us along with Kate Kavanagh who probably came at Elliot's invite and I turn to Ana to make introductions. "Ana, this is my sister, Mia," I point towards my father who gives me a wink and nod, telling me that today will not turn into an interrogation and he will guarantee that. "And my father Carrick. Of course you know my mother Grace and Elliot."

Before Ana can even open her mouth to respond, Mia has her wrapped in a hug. If I wasn't so worried about Ana becoming overwhelmed by my family, I'd be amused at the widening of Ana's surprised eyes. "Um, hi," she squeaks shyly when I finally convince Mia to back off.

Carrick steps forward and thankfully simply shakes Ana's hand rather than hugging her. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Anastasia," he says warmly. "We've heard a lot about you from Christian and Elliot."

Ana's eyes widen in panic as they dart between my brother and me and now I do laugh. "All good," I assure her quietly, pulling her against me and kissing her hair. It takes me a moment to realize my entire family is staring at us—because I'm holding her? I suppose it's novel thing for them, but they had better get used to it quickly; Ana isn't going anywhere for the foreseeable future. "So," I say, releasing Ana and reaching down for the cooler and backpack, "ready to sail?"

Grace opens her mouth to respond, but somebody behind me speaks first, "Not just yet."

My eyes close slowly and my good mood evaporates immediately at the sound of Elena's voice. Ana stiffens beside me as she turns to watch as Elena climbs onto the boat and greets my family. While they're distracted, I turn to Ana, blocking her view on our stowaway. "I didn't know she would be here," I say in a low urgent voice. "If you want to leave, we'll go right now."

Ana looks up at me as she thinks over the options presented to her. Finally she sighs and shakes her head. "No," she says softly. "I'm done running because of her; I've done it enough and I won't let her scare me off anymore."

I'm beyond relieved, though until she spoke the words I didn't realize I was worried that she would run. I'm also proud that she isn't backing down from anything that might threaten us. "Okay, then," I say softly, running a finger along her jawline.

"Christian, it's so good to see you," Elena gushes once she's said hello to everyone else. "I've been following this newsfeed about you—very shocking business, Christian," she has the fucking nerve to tsk in disapproval. "I hope it's all sorted soon."

"I bet you do," I say so only she can hear me. "If you'll excuse me, I'm going to give my girlfriend a tour of the boat."

That shocks Elena, though I'm not sure why; I thought I'd made it clear that Ana is here to stay when she showed up at my office. I tug Ana by the elbow towards the stairs that lead down to the cabins and head straight to the master, dropping the backpack by the door before closing it and pulling Ana into my arms.

"I wanted this to be a drama-free day," I murmur against her forehead. "I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it," she replies. "If she starts anything, we can just throw her overboard."

I laugh. "Good plan, baby," I reply, snickering. "I'll keep that one in mind." I hold her tighter against me, wishing we could stay just like this all day. The contented sigh from Ana tells me she feels the same way. "As much as I would love to ignore my family all day, Mia will come barging in to drag us out in the most undignified fashion possible."

She giggles and my grin widens. "Let's go, then," she says, reluctantly pulling away from me.

We make our way above deck, ignoring the looks my family is giving us. "About time, hot shot," Elliot grumbles with a knowing grin. "Let's get out of here."

I almost forgot about setting sail and wonder whether I can somehow argue enough to get Elena off the boat before we go. But if I know her at all, she came here today as my mother's best friend and the chances of leaving her behind are slim. I hesitate, though, knowing I'll have to leave Ana alone for a while. I'd prefer keeping her close with Elena around, but good manners dictate letting her get to know my family. And besides, Kate can run interference and act as buffer if Elena starts her shit. "I need to go help Elliot," I inform Ana reluctantly. "I shouldn't b long. Will you be okay?"

She gives me a genuine smile. "Of course," she assures me. "I'll be here when you get back."

I kiss her briefly, again ignoring the looks we attract, particularly from Elena whose eyes are narrowed and her lips sneer at us. I'm not trying to put on a show for Elena's benefit, but if it helps her to realize this thing with Ana is far from fleeting, then so much the better.

Elliot joins me at the wheel as I get the boat started and begin to pull away from the marina. "So why's Elena giving you the snake-eye?" asks my over observant brother. He's never said as much, but I think he's always wondered if my relationship with Elena was more than what we let on to everyone else. Thankfully he filed that away with the assumption that I'm gay in the never-to-speak-of-it folder.

"Because she's a bitter old woman," I mutter without thinking. "She's worried Ana might be bad for me and she's taken it upon herself to protect me from the evils of women."

He huffs a laugh. "She always gave me the creeps," Elliot admits in a mutter. "I had a dream once when I was a kid after watching _The Wizard of Oz_ and she was the wicked witch. Every time I saw her after that, I wanted to ask where she kept her flying monkeys."

I laugh at the imagery his words present, my mind putting all of her former submissives' heads on the bodies of flying monkeys. My amusement fades slightly when I remember I'm one of them.

"So Elena doesn't like Ana," Elliot says musingly. "Well, I guess we know her judgment is shit."

I nod. "I'd say so," I respond. "I had words with her after she tracked Ana down on her lunch break one day and tried to warn her off from me."

Elliot winces. "And she still has the balls to show up today," he says with a hint of awe. He briefly glances behind us to where we can hear laughter. "So how are things with Ana?"

My instinctive reaction is to glare at my brother and tell him to mind his own fucking business, but for whatever reason, I feel like sharing. "Things are good," I say honestly. "Despite the drama, things are really great."

Elliot studies me for a moment and I know it's because neither of us can remember the last time I was actually, truly happy. "So you really like her then?" he asks quietly. I raise an eyebrow at him in response and he actually flushes. "Look, it's not like we have experience to draw from here. Dad's been trying to get info from me about you two and I realized I haven't really talked to you about Ana."

"And we're not going to do it now," I inform him.

"But you're happy?"

I roll my eyes. "Yes, Elliot, I'm happy," I say blandly. "How are things with you and Kate?" I pause a beat, just long enough for Elliot to take a breath and open his mouth in response. "Oh wait, I just remembered it's none of my business and I don't give a shit anyway."

"Asshole," Elliot says, grudgingly laughing. "Kate and I are great, too, even if you don't give a shit. She's really amazing, Christian..."

I listen with wavering interest as Elliot talks about his girlfriend and I realize the last time Elliot stayed with the same girl was when he was in college. He's always been the love 'em and leave 'em type, never sticking around long enough to form attachments. Mild curiosity makes me wonder what makes Katherine Kavanagh different; then again, I'm still trying to work out what makes Ana so different than the women I've known over the years so I don't have much room to talk. Vaguely I wonder if the revelation that Ana isn't my first relationship has made him feel comfortable trying to inveigle information from me regarding a part of my life he wouldn't have dared discuss with me only a few months ago. The most he ever did was give me shit about my lack of love life and desperate need to get laid. Most of the time he gave me shit about the latter he was right.

When we're finally in open water, Carrick joins us at the wheel to take over so Elliot and I can get the sails up. We've been doing this for most of our lives and we could probably do it in our sleep. Once we're finished, I quickly make my way back to Ana. She's sitting between Kate and Mia, and the three of them are laughing at something. When they see me approach, it occurs to me that whatever is amusing them is related to me. I narrow my eyes on my sister, wondering what the hell she's told them, but Mia only looks back with her patented smile of complete and utter innocence. Glancing around, I see Grace and Elena sitting in a corner of the U-shaped banquette talking quietly, their expressions rather somber. Elena senses my gaze and looks over, giving me a little smile and finger wave.

I ignore her in favor of taking Kate's place beside Ana which she abandoned to help Elliot with something below deck. I narrow my eyes on them as they disappear, desperately hoping they aren't about to do what I think. This is my boat, after all, and if anybody should be taking his girlfriend below deck for a quick fuck, it should be me. They've got five minutes before I send Mia after them.

"I really hope my sister hasn't been filling your head with lies," I say to Ana, sliding an arm around her shoulders and pulling her against me.

Mia gives me her most irritating grin. "I would never," she says with mock indignation. "Everything I've told her is absolutely true."

"Don't believe a word she says," I whisper conspiratorially to Ana.

Ana is fighting a grin of her own, her eyes dancing. "Where's the fun in that?" she asks coyly, looking up at me through her hair.

Taking a deep breath, I fight the urge to follow Elliot and Kate's example and drag Ana downstairs. "Simply keep in mind that anything you use against me will be treated as an act of war. You may not have siblings, but I assure you I would have no qualms or difficulty digging up information on you."

She raises an eyebrow, lips twitching. "Why am I not surprised?" she murmurs quietly. "Do I need to worry about another stalker?"

Though she's teasing, her words hit a nerve and I wonder if I'm coming off as a stalker to her. I've arrived at her home unannounced more than once; went into a bar because I knew she was there and even though she wasn't speaking to me at the time, I wanted to see her; I've run intensive background checks on her, her family, and her friends; I'm borderline obsessed with her.

Actually, forget borderline; I'm completely obsessed with her. Perhaps I am exhibiting several stalking tendencies, but unlike Benjamin Reese, I don't want to terrorize her or hurt her in any way. If she tells me tomorrow that she doesn't want to be with me anymore—assuming I accept such a thing—yes, I might turn up in a few places she might visit just to get a glimpse of her, but it would be more for her safety than anything. That, and not seeing her for an extended period would be devastating and I wouldn't be able to stay away for long.

Ana is watching me with a frown. "I didn't mean that," she whispers uneasily, glancing at Mia out of the corner of her eye. My sister is putting up a good show of not eavesdropping as she helps my mother start lunch. "Not that way, at least. You're nothing like Benjamin Reese, Christian. You never could be."

"I hope not," I whisper, kissing her briefly. "And I know what you meant. If I do seem a bit stalkerish, it's part of that whole control freak, jealousy thing."

She smiles. "It is part of your charm, Mr. Grey," she teases.

In response, I give her one of my panty-combusting smiles. "You find me charming, Miss Steele?" I ask in a low murmur against her lips. "Well, that is good to know."

She narrows her eyes at me rather than blushing as I expected. "Right, because you're utterly clueless of the effect you have on me," she says sardonically.

I fight a laugh, catching movement out of the corner of my eye. Glancing over, I find Elena watching us with narrowed eyes and pursed lips. I ignore her, knowing that at some point today she's going to try and get me on my own. Though I would be happier putting off that moment indefinitely, I've got a few things that need to be clarified by her and a few more things to clarify for her. The days when I give a shit about appeasing Elena Lincoln are long gone and if I discover she's in any way part of the information leak, I will burn her to the ground.

"Hungry, baby?" I whisper into Ana's ear, uncertain whether I'm referring to actual food or something else altogether.

Elliot and Kate finally return and my idiot brother has the balls to turn and grin at me, silently telling me exactly what they were doing below deck.

"Hungry for what?" Ana whispers back, also noticing Elliot and Kate returning. In those three words, I hear longing and desire in her voice.

"Food, actually," I say reluctantly. Any attempt she and I make to slip away will be noticed by everybody on this boat, and I wouldn't put it past a few people to interrupt at very inopportune moments.

Throughout lunch, I manage to relax despite the fact that I can feel Elena's narrowed gaze on Ana and me the entire time and every time I glance at any member of my family, they're looking back at me in wonder. I've already concluded that the reason for their stares is because they've never seen me act affectionately with anybody, let alone a woman. I ignore it, knowing Ana is still feeling self-conscious about meeting them and there's the added uneasiness of having Elena here. Nevertheless, I'm enjoying being here with my arm around Ana, my fingers trailing softly up and down her arm while I talk baseball with my father and brother and she talks to Kate an Mia.

Eventually Mia insists it's time to get into the water, arguing with Elliot about whether that means swimming or unloading the jet skis. Kate drags Ana away from me by the hand to below deck to get changed into bathing suits and I'm tempted to follow them to get some time alone with Ana. Instead I begin cleaning up the remnants from lunch. Just as I'm finishing up, I realize I've let my guard down.

"This is some act, Christian," Elena says from behind me. "I wonder, is it for my benefit or your family's?"

Gritting my teeth, I turn around, automatically glancing around in case my family is lingering nearby. It's a behavior I acquired in my teenage years; no place was off limits for Elena during our arrangement together and it didn't matter that my family might interrupt. "What the fuck are you doing here, Elena?" I ask coldly. "What do you want?"

"I was invited," she says smugly. "Grace was eager to introduce me to your new girlfriend."

I roll my eyes. Of course she was... "I told you to stay away from us," I remind her in a low voice. "To stay away from Anastasia."

"Well, I've wanted to speak with you all week about what the media has been reporting about you. I wondered if there was anything I could do."

I step back when she steps forward and attempts to rest a comforting hand on my arm. "I have it under control," I say coldly.

"It's all very convenient, don't you think?" she asks, ignoring my words and actions.

I raise an eyebrow. "What is?"

"Well, this all comes to light right after you start seeing this Anastasia... And we both know how careful you normally are, how guarded you keep your secrets. Nothing like this has happened before; it's a natural conclusion to jump to. I assume she signed an NDA?"

The memory of what Ana said about throwing Elena overboard suddenly returns to the forefront of my mind. "If you're inferring that Ana is the source of this leak, you're out of your fucking mind," I snap, careful to keep my voice steady as my sister and Kate arrive back on deck. Ana won't be far behind. "Not that it's any of your fucking business. I'm looking into this source and I'm trying to give you the benefit of the doubt because of our history together, but I swear to God, Elena, if I find out you had _anything_ to do with this, I will burn you to the fucking ground without a second thought." I take a small step towards her and I'm grimly pleased when her eyes widen, her skin pales, and she barely resists taking a step away from me. I glance past her to find Ana is back on deck, her smile slipping when she sees who I'm talking to. I look back at Elena.

"You of all people should know that you don't want me as your enemy, Elena. Keep that in mind."

With that, I push past Elena to rejoin Ana which is exactly where I should be.

* * *

 **A/N:** I know everyone wants Christian to tell his family about the whole Elena thing-it's coming. As always, thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed (almost 1500 reviews so far!) There is more coming soon. And thanks for being patient with the slowness of the updates. I'm still working through a bit of writer's block, but it shouldn't be much of an issue with the rest of the story, fingers crossed. Take care, see you next time!


	25. Chapter 25

Despite Elena's presence, the rest of the day on _The Grace_ was quite enjoyable. It took me a few minutes to bite back the urge to send Ana back below deck to put on a shirt to cover the tiny bikini she chose for the day and a few more to tame the sudden erection caused by the sight of her. Probably my favorite part of the day was when Elliot challenged me to a jet ski race. I pulled Ana up behind me and she wrapped her arms around me, pressing as close to me as possible. Occasionally, I felt her lips press against my back. Normally I would have had a panic attack, but having her wrapped around me was enough of a distraction that all I felt was warmth and pleasure from her touch. As we were headed home for the night, I swear my mother was right on the cusp of crying because she saw me allowing Ana to touch me all day and it's not something any of us were used to.

Sunday was another novelty for me. For the first time in years, I rejected several work-related phone calls in order to spend uninterrupted time with Ana. It occurred to me that since the two of us got together, I've been neglecting work more and more often. It should bother me, but it doesn't. The fact that the entire world knows what I do behind closed doors should bother me, but it doesn't. And I know it's because I have Ana. I think I could lose everything as long as I don't lose her which is what prompts me Sunday night to ask her to move in with me.

She is staring at me as though she's wondering whether I'm joking or not. "You're not serious?" she whispers. We're lying on our sides facing each other and my eyes roam her body still flushed from her recent orgasm.

"When it comes to you, I'm always serious," I say quietly, fighting to not feel insulted or hurt by her reaction. "I love having you here, Ana. I love falling asleep with you and waking up with you. When you're here, I know you're safe. I think we've managed to avoid the reality of what's happening to my now very publicized personal life. It's bad enough that I have to dedicate a fraction of my staff to fielding the inquiries that are flooding in on a daily basis and that I can barely step out of my own home without wondering whether some asshole photographer is lying in wait to ambush me. Ana, the longer this goes on, the more likely it is that you're going to be targeted next and I won't let that happen. The only way I could sleep at night is to know you're not on your own and vulnerable."

She opens and closes her mouth several times as though she's trying to find some sort of argument, but can't quite manage it. I wait for her to say that of course she's safe in her apartment even though we both know that's not necessarily true. When she finally finds her words, she looks nervous. "It's a bit soon, isn't it?" she asks weakly.

I raise an eyebrow at her. "You're concerned about time?" I ask in reply. "You know how I feel about you and that is not going to change no matter how much time passes. I'll do whatever it takes to convince you of that. Will it change for you?"

"No," she answers without hesitation. "It won't."

I smile. "So what's the problem?" I ask gently.

She averts her eyes and I get the impression she might say no. I'm not sure how I would react to that. "Can I think about it?" she whispers nervously.

 _It's not a no_ , I think, trying to reassure myself. But it's also not a yes. The thought that if things were different between us, if she were my submissive, there wouldn't be any debate, but I also remind myself that if she were my submissive, she wouldn't be in my bed and I certainly wouldn't be asking this of her. "Of course," I whisper, trailing my fingers down her cheek. She sighs and closes her eyes in response. I want to tell her to take her time, that I can be patient for however long it takes for her to think about my request, but the truth is I would hire a moving team to pack her belongings now, in the middle of the night, and have them brought here if given the word.

Unfortunately I'm learning that I can't control Ana's actions however much I may want to on occasion. And honestly, I wouldn't want her to move in because I demand it; I want her with me because she wants to be here. I want my home to be her home and I want her to be happy here.

Just as she has all week, Ana falls asleep in my arms. Tonight, though, I'm restless, worried about everything from Ana's lack of answer to my private life becoming public knowledge. If it weren't so late and if I didn't want Ana to get at least some sleep before work, I'd wake and indulge in her. Instead I get out of bed, pulling on a pair of PJ pants before padding my way out into my apartment. I'm accustomed to seeing my home empty, dark, and quiet in the middle of the night; I tend to spend most of my nocturnal time at the piano trying to ward off bad dreams or lull myself to sleep.

I find myself at the windows overlooking the view of Seattle that convinced me to buy this penthouse. I'm as far removed from normal society as it's possible to be when I'm trying to fit in with them; from here, I'm away from their prying, judgmental eyes. This is one of the few places in the world where I am truly at ease. I imagine it's because there is nobody here to expect something of me, nobody I have to hide from. It still comes as a surprise that even with Ana here, that hasn't changed. I'm so accustomed to being on my own that I thought having somebody here who isn't staff might be stifling. But it isn't. That is why I want her living with me; I'm enjoying the effect she has on me far too much to ever let it go and I'm eager to see how much else she can change about me.

And to think it wasn't so long ago that she was here for the first time and I all but kicked her out because I thought she was too good for me. Well, that hasn't changed much, but now I've discovered letting her go simply isn't an option I could ever face. I only hope she feels the same way.

Sighing, I turn and glance briefly at the piano, debating whether or not to play to calm my mind, but experience tells me I would only wake Ana. So I head into my office and sit behind my desk, reaching over automatically to power up my computer. I'm not foolish enough to believe that whoever has been going to the media about my private life will simply give up because my PR team has essentially firewalled any further information from being leaked. It's bad enough part of my Dominant/submissive contract has been released, but if somebody convinces one of my former subs to talk or somehow gets a hold of my insurance photos, I'm fucked. The second anybody gets those, they can and will twist it into something it is not. Nobody would understand and there will be no way to spin it around in my favor.

In my email inbox is a message from Fred Welch informing me that a search was performed on Benjamin Reese's apartment in Portland shortly after his arrest at GEH. Photos were taken of what was found and the farther down I scroll the more I want to rush back to my bedroom to check that Ana is all right. The fucking psychopath had what amounts to a shrine to Ana in his bedroom. Hundreds of photos of her were stuck to his walls and ceiling, most of which were taken within the last couple of months. The ones that bother me the most are the ones where she was the most vulnerable—when she was asleep or half-naked because she was changing clothes or when she was in the bathtub relaxing with her head back and her eyes closed. Several articles of her clothing were found beneath his pillow including a pair of her underwear and there was even a lock of her hair.

I'll admit I'm not the most normal man in the world. I can be petty and selfish, possessive and jealous, and just generally an asshole, but I've never crossed a line anywhere near the one Reese has crossed. Apparently Taylor told Welch to withhold some of the things found in that apartment from me and that should piss me off, but Welch has summarized those findings and he strongly believes Reese would have taken Ana to god knows where, done god knows what to her, and then killed her. He nearly did and I once again wish desperately I'd have beaten the shit out of him more than I did before Taylor pulled me off of him. The concern with Reese now is that he'll plead insanity at his arraignment and end up at some mental hospital and possibly be released back into general population after a few years. I know my father will do anything possible to keep that from happening, but even he can't control everything.

Over the years, I've made connections with hundreds of people in the business world, but I've also made connections with people who don't live their lives on the legal side of the world. Right now I can think of a handful of ways to get rid of Benjamin Reese permanently without it ever being traced back to me. It's not something I've ever considered before and I know the only reason I'm thinking about it now is because I desperately need to keep Ana safe, and there is nothing I wouldn't do for her.

I shake myself from those thoughts, blaming them on the late hour and lack of sleep. It's best to allow the legal system do their job, but I will keep Plan B nearby just in case.

I huff a humorless laugh at myself. The effect this woman has on me is reaching new levels and I cannot control my thoughts or feelings when it comes to her. It's terrifying on one level and liberating on another, and I never know in which direction it will go at any given moment.

My thoughts cease when I hear the ping of an incoming email and my brow furrows at the unknown sender. It reminds me of the photos I've received of Ana and the ones she received the morning Elena and I had breakfast, the ones that very nearly broke us up. I'd assumed Benjamin Reese was behind them—the ones to me sent with the intention of informing me that Ana wasn't safe; the ones to her to try and convince her she couldn't trust me. But I seriously doubt Reese has internet privileges, so I open the email warily. I expect to see more surveillance photos of Ana; instead I find a video attachment. For a second I debate simply deleting it; nothing good could come from this, but of course I need to know, so I click play. There is only video, no audio, but I don't need to hear what is happening in this video to know what it is.

Immediately Elena Lincoln is scratched off the list of suspects who may have leaked the information about my private life. In the video, a young man is completely naked and shackled to a St. Andrews cross and I know immediately it's me. Elena prowls towards me wielding a whip and like a train wreck, I can't turn away from the sight of the punishment lashing she gives me. I watch my sixteen-year-old self throw his head back in pain and pleasure, remembering instantly how it felt. Elena continues the punishment for several minutes, drops the whip, and then drops to her knees. Before I have to see what happens next—I remember quite clearly—I close the video.

From the beginning, Elena made sure I knew when she decided to take photos of our playroom sessions and it never bothered me. I trusted her implicitly back then and knew she would never betray our secret; doing so would incriminate her as well and she wouldn't risk that. I don't recall her ever informing me that she would be recording our sessions. I adopted a few of her techniques to help ensure my secrets and the thought of taking video had crossed my mind when I was younger, but it felt like too much and I wasn't sure having pornography featuring myself and my submissives would have been safe.

So where the fuck did this come from? And who the fuck sent it? If it wasn't Elena keeping things from me, then she is as much as risk to lose everything as I am. I have no fucking clue what to do with this new information. Confronting Elena suddenly jumps to the top of my list; I need to know if she's behind it and if she isn't, despite everything she's done, she should be aware of the video's existence if for no other reason than for old time's sake. I feel guilty considering it, knowing how Ana feels about Elena, but this isn't something I can delegate to Taylor or Andrea; I need to be able to look Elena in her eyes when she's questioned about this to know whether she is lying.

Getting back to sleep now will be impossible. Again, I briefly consider waking Ana and losing myself in her, but decide on a workout instead. An hour or so in the gym will give me time to think things through and help me decide what to do about this video.

* * *

Taylor is parked outside Elena's house in Bellevue, the same house where I became her submissive for six years. After the divorce, Linc decided to cut his losses and left it to her. I always wondered if he ever felt guilty for putting her into the hospital after he found out I was fucking his wife. Then again, that bastard probably never felt guilty for a single fucking thing he ever did. I still get pissed off whenever I recall the state he left her in; I can understand anger directed at the both of us for our deception to him, but it would have been enough to just divorce Elena. He nearly killed her and I've spent years biding my time in case he ever gives me reason to burn him to the ground.

I told Ana about the video this morning before she left for work and that I planned on confronting Elena about it in person. She wasn't particularly enthused by the idea, but she managed to stifle the urge to forbid me from doing it. And I know if she'd asked me not to do this, I would have agreed. I don't want to do this anymore than she wants me to do it, but it has to be done.

"Wait here," I murmur to Taylor, sliding out of the car. I know him well enough to know he would prefer to come with me—he never liked Elena either—but he won't disregard an order unless he truly believes my safety is compromised.

Sighing, I reach up and ring the doorbell, unable to remember the last time I was here. It's been years; it's more likely that Elena will come to my place or Grey House or out to dinner if we have something to discuss, and I preferred it that way. There are a lot of memories in this house and recently, they turned from fond memories to bad ones. Once again, I suspect that is a result of the affect Ana has on me...

The door opens and the look of surprise on Elena's face to find me on her doorstep is clear. "Christian," she says, disbelievingly. "This is a surprise."

"We need to talk," I say quietly. "Something's happened."

She frowns in concern and steps back, opening the door to let me inside. "What is it? Not your family..." I register the sincerity in her worried tone. She cares for my family.

"No, they're fine," I tell her quickly. She relaxes and gives me a small smile, gesturing for me to go into the living room. "I needed to ask you something and I swear to God if you lie to me, you will regret it."

"Sounds ominous," she says with a hint of amusement. "What is it?"

I sit back in an armchair and take a moment to marshal my thoughts. "During the time that I was your submissive," I begin quietly, "how many times did you video record our sessions?"

I watch her face closely for any sign of deception; there's only shock at the question. "Never," she says emphatically, and I know she's telling the truth. "There are the photos, of course, but you knew about them."

I nod slowly. "Do you still have them?" I ask, uncertain whether I want the answer or not.

She raises an eyebrow. "No, I got rid of them years ago when you began becoming successful," she answers. "I didn't want to risk your reputation."

Her reply is a relief; at least the photos are gone... "Late last night I received an email with a video attachment. The video was taken when I was about sixteen and clearly shows the both of us in your playroom," I inform her. "So far I've been unable to trace the email address, but I've got my IT guy digging into it."

"Video?" she says, bewildered. "How in the hell..."

I shake my head. "I was hoping you could tell me," I say tiredly.

"Could you tell where the camera might have been hidden?"

"Well, unless you've redecorated since I last saw it, I recall the cross being on the left wall from the stairs. I'd say judging by the camera angle, the camera was up high, aimed down, and focused diagonally to it."

"Perhaps you could show me?" she requests, standing and turning to face the door of her basement playroom.

I raise an eyebrow at her. "I'm not sure that would be a good idea," I say firmly. "I'm only here because I needed to see the truth about the video for myself and I felt it was only fair to warn you. Nothing else has changed between us and it never will."

She purses her lips against whatever argument she's come up with, but thankfully, she keeps her mouth shut; I'm not in the mood for an argument with her. "Well, I should say thank you, then," she says grudgingly. "I suppose the question now is how that video was possible at all."

"Can you think of anyone?" I ask.

"No," she replies soberly. "If I do, I will let you know."

I want to tell her not to contact me, that I want no communication with her, but at the moment, Elena is the lesser of the evils. She knows how I feel about her and if she's smart, she'll stay the fuck away from both Ana and me. "Thank you," I say stiffly, standing.

"Leaving already?" Elena asks as I start towards the door. "Ana has that leash on you tightly, doesn't she?"

I bristle, but refuse to take the bait she's laid out for me. "Goodbye, Elena," I say shortly, closing her front door behind me.

Fifteen minutes with Elena Lincoln and I'm fucking exhausted. Unfortunately, I've still got a full day of work to get through. Now that most of the drama has settled down some, Ana has insisted she return to PR despite my argument that I wanted her on the twentieth floor for my peace of mind if nothing else. And really, it's probably better that way; having her nearby would be far too tempting and before the end of the week, I'd have her naked and screaming on my desk. I'd enjoy it very much and I'm certain she would, too, but right now with the public eye on me, we don't need any more scandal. I'm still half-expecting Ana to run from the current issues and wonder if that's why she didn't agree to move in with me...

 _One thing at a time, Grey..._

The next thing on my agenda is a meeting with my personal lawyers to bring them up to speed on the video. I briefly considered letting my father handle this mess, but I think he's probably learned more than enough about me for the both of us. And if he were representing me, I'd have to show him this video and he would know about Elena's role in my life, and that cannot happen. I think both my parents would fall over dead from shock and if not, they'd kill Elena and me.

I cannot help being bothered by the fact that Elena doesn't know how that video was taken or who might have planted the video camera in the playroom. They've held onto it for quite some time. Not for the first time I wonder if Linc is somehow involved. If not, it could have been one of Elena's subs previous to me. We never talked about her former submissives, even when I was training to become a Dominant. I have no idea whether I was the first fifteen-year-old she ever seduced and until now I never cared. I suppose it's possible that whoever came before me might have been pissed off enough at Elena for ending their arrangement that he wanted to find some way to get back at her. But why video of Elena and me? Why not just report her for having sex with a minor which would have dragged her through the courts if not landed her in jail? A nagging thought suggests this person may want to punish me along with Elena, but I can't think of anybody who could or would.

Is it possible that this whole thing is because of Elena Lincoln and our previous relationship?

I feel like an idiot even asking myself the question. Of course it's because of Elena; if not for her, I never would have discovered BDSM and I wouldn't have to worry about this scandal. Then again, I'd probably be in jail or dead, so I suppose the point is moot. I did what I did, I made my own decisions, and my affair with Elena was one of them. The results of that affair have helped shape me into the man I am today, and while I know most people wouldn't understand, I'm thankful to her for getting me on the right path. I'm not ashamed of what I've done, but I also didn't want the entire world knowing what I've been a part of.

I do find it rather ironic that shortly after deciding I no longer want to participate in that lifestyle is the moment it's revealed to the world.

By early afternoon, I'm nursing a headache. I'd wanted to have lunch with Ana today, but with my detour to Elena's this morning before coming to work, I had to push back several meetings that couldn't be cancelled and ate a salad while on a conference call. So in a rare moment of peace, I'm tempted to fire whoever has just knocked on my door. I don't, though, because it's Taylor, and judging by the look on his face, whatever he's here for is important.

"Sorry to interrupt, Mr. Grey," Taylor says, entering and closing the door behind him. "I found something you should know about."

I sigh, nodding, and gesture for him to take the chair across from my desk. "What is it?"

Before he sits, he hands me a manila file folder, but I don't open it immediately, preferring to hear it from Taylor first. "Welch and I were looking through GEH employees who might possibly have some connection with the leaked information, particularly those whose employment has recently been terminated."

"And?" I say despondently.

Taylor nods at the folder in my hands and I open it, staring in surprise at the information therein. Though really, I shouldn't be too surprised, I suppose...

"You're kidding," I say dully.

"No, sir," Taylor replies. "The deeper we checked into his past, the more sense it makes."

Brandon fucking Riley. I half-expected some attempt at retribution for firing him after I overheard him trying to warn Anastasia away from me. He hinted that he knew things about me that most don't and that I'm not the man Ana believed me to be. I just didn't think he actually knew anything of consequence. In the three years he's worked for me, there have been times when business deals or negotiations during a company acquisition have required tactics that bordered on the line of legality, and he's been involved.

"How the fuck would he have gained access to the things that have been leaked?" I growl.

"Because he was aware of the information before he came to work at GEH, sir," Taylor explains patiently. "I waited to bring this information to you until I was able to confirm it with certainty. Brandon Riley has a half-brother, Mr. Grey. An older brother who was at one time connected to Elena Lincoln."

"Connected?" I repeat.

Taylor shifts in his seat. "I can only assume from what I've learned that it was a... relationship of sorts, possibly similar to ones you have had in the past."

I can't recall the last time Taylor alluded to my past relationships. We had a brief conversation about it when he first came to work for me and afterwards, he assured me he wouldn't quit and we agreed to never discuss it again. "A half-brother?" I repeat quietly. I lean back in my chair and consider the implications of what Taylor is telling me. Riley's half-brother is Elena's former submissive, which would explain how access to her playroom was granted. I've had submissives who have taken it upon themselves to have a self-guided tour of my apartment and there is no doubt in my mind that should one of them be determined enough to sneak into my home, they'd find a way. Elena's home isn't exactly a cozy little double wide; there are ways to get in and out without being noticed. And I should know since more than once I was forced to sneak out an alternate exit because her husband came home unexpectedly.

I make a mental note to have Taylor double check our security measures at Escala. I've had more than enough experience dealing with unwanted, uninvited guests making themselves at home at Ana's apartment; I'm not going to risk someone getting into my home as well.

The question is why this half-brother gives a shit about me after thirteen years. Perhaps Elena ended their arrangement shortly before starting ours and he became jealous. And being her former submissive means he knows what goes into a Dominant/submissive contract, so if he did somehow get into my home to steal a copy of one, he knew precisely what he was looking for. Of course, she never spoke to me about her former submissives just as I've never spoken of mine.

"If I may ask, Mr. Grey," Taylor says uncomfortably, "Did Mrs. Lincoln insist on the use of Non-Disclosure Agreements?"

I know what he's getting at and I know the answer. "No," I scoff. "And I didn't begin using them until GEH got off the ground."

His mouth twists in vague disappointment, but he doesn't seem surprised at my answer. "Well, if we can somehow gain access to this brother's computer hard drive, perhaps we can find the original file and any others that might be present."

I wince at the thought that this may not be the only video this fucker has of my time with Elena. "Bring Barney up to speed," I say reluctantly. I had hoped to keep this mess as far from my work as possible, but I think that ship sailed long ago. "Remind him to operate with complete discretion." Not that I'm worried about Barney talking to anybody; he's one of my most loyal employees.

"Of course, Mr. Grey," Taylor assures me.

"I want security increased both here and Escala," I say. "Change the elevator key code and see if you can't get a few cameras up in the parking garage."

Taylor shifts in his seat looking almost sheepish. "There are cameras in the parking garage, Mr. Grey," he informs me. "I had them installed weeks ago."

I raise an eyebrow in surprise. "Well done..." I mutter, wondering why the fuck it has taken me this long to think about it. "Who has access to the footage?" A series of memories flies through my mind of me pinning Ana to her car or a wall because I couldn't hold off long enough to get upstairs; I'd really rather Escala security not see any of that.

"Only me," Taylor answers, his gaze darting away from me briefly. Clearly he knows exactly why I'm concerned. "The network is encrypted and nearly impossible to access from any computer but mine or yours. I won't say it's not possible to hack into, but I had Barney upgrade the firewalls and by the time somebody manages to break through the first level of security, he and I will be alerted and we can shut it down."

"Nice," I say appreciatively. A look of pride crosses Taylor's expression briefly. "Inform Sawyer that Anastasia is not to go anywhere alone. In fact, I want you to look into hiring a female CPO; perhaps Ana will feel a little more comfortable."

Taylor nods thoughtfully. "I've actually got someone in mind; I'll make a few phone calls."

"Good." I hesitate knowing exactly what Taylor's response from my next order will be. At this point I can't see another option if I want to regain control of my private life. "And I'll be meeting with Brandon Riley this afternoon. In light of the new information, I want to know what his fucking game is."

"Mr. Grey, I would strongly advise you against that," Taylor says predictably. "If Riley is playing a part in all of this, meeting with him could make it worse."

"I'm not asking your permission, Taylor," I say evenly. "I'm simply informing you of what will happen."

Taylor's jaw tenses. "As you wish, sir," he says coolly. "But at least permit me to search him upon arrival. I don't yet see him as a physical threat, but he may attempt to record the conversation."

"Fair enough," I agree.

Taylor nods once, still unhappy with my declaration of meeting Brandon Riley. "Will there be anything else, sir?"

"Not right now, Taylor, no."

Without another word, he turns on his heel and leaves my office. I'd say my head of security is being paranoid on the subject of Brandon Riley—this half-brother of his poses more of a threat in my eyes—but I know the moment I dismiss Taylor's concerns all hell could break loose and that is what he's trying to prevent. I simply want to know what the endgame is for this situation. Money? If that is the case I know without a doubt that I won't hesitate to end this before it goes on any further. Is Riley pissed that I fired him? He knew from day one that violating a GEH NDA would result in immediate employment termination. He may not have gone into detail about anything that day I overheard him talking with Ana in the copy room, but given the opportunity, he would have.

Riley wouldn't be the first disgruntled former employee I've had to deal with—it comes with the territory in the business world. It's never quite escalated to this level, but threats have been made in the past from people who want to see me and my company taken down completely. It hasn't happened yet, and I'll be damned if I let it happen now. Because now I've got much more to lose than just the company I've built over the last seven years; I've got Ana to think about and I refuse to drag her down with me.


	26. Chapter 26

To my annoyance, Brandon Riley claimed he couldn't meet with me until tomorrow. By agreeing, I let him believe he has the upper hand, the seat of power, however wrong that belief is. Hopefully this way he'll come into the meeting ready and willing to make some sort of demand to end this, if, that is, he's truly a part of it. I'm willing to bet just about anything that he is and I have no intention of folding easily.

After work, though all I really want to do right now is drag Ana back to my apartment and lose myself in her following this day, I don't. She'll want to know all about my confrontation with Elena and while I have no intention of keeping any of the details from her, I'm not quite ready to rehash it. Instead, I have Taylor take me to the gym where I train with Claude Bastille in the hopes of working off some of my agitation. The great thing about Claude is that he never asks why I'm so pissed off when we spar. He uses it to his advantage, to push me into fighting harder. Once or twice that turned out to be a bad idea; a few years back I was pissed about something work related and it had been months since I'd had a submissive in my playroom. For whatever reason, when I climbed into the ring, everything suddenly boiled over and the next thing I knew, I'd broken one of his ribs. He didn't hold it against me—it was all part of the kickboxing world—but that was the last time I took that much anger with me to the gym.

Today is no different than any other training session. My focus is scattered between work and Ana and Brandon Riley and whatever else the public might find out about me. Claude zeroed in on my distracted behavior the moment I stepped onto the mats. After the third time that he knocked me on my ass, he started digging for ways to motivate me into getting back into the game. When he taunts me about being distracted because I'm thinking of some hot piece of ass, however true it is, I go at him with everything I have.

"Much better, Grey," Claude says, wincing as I help him up from the mat. "Guess we know which buttons to push now."

"Fuck off," I murmur mostly good-naturedly, wiping my face with a towel and grabbing my water bottle.

Claude chuckles behind me. "Just never thought I'd see the day," he continues. "Good for you."

I raise an eyebrow at him, wondering when Claude and I talked about anything that didn't revolve around training and golf. Thankfully that also means he won't bring up all the news reports on me right now. He'll only give me enough shit to keep me on track. I think back to what Ana said about how those who know me won't think any differently of me despite all that is being revealed and speculated about. It's both bewildering and a relief.

Following a quick shower and making arrangements with Claude for the round of golf I've been putting off for months—since I met Ana, really—and head home, wondering what Ana and I will do this evening. Well, I know what I want to do; I want to do whatever it takes to convince her to move in with me. We haven't discussed it at all since I rather impulsively asked in the middle of the night after sex and I have no idea whether it's even something she wants. The more I think about it, though, the more excited I'm becoming at the prospect. All manner of thoughts have crossed my mind since I asked, things I never thought possible for myself, things I never knew I wanted until Ana came into my life. Now I can't imagine any other future for myself.

The apartment is quiet when I arrive and for a moment I wonder if Ana even came here straight after work. She said she would, but perhaps she's decided to spend time with Kate or to work late. Either way it's irritating and disappointing; after such a frustrating and shitty day the only thing I had to look forward to was losing myself in Ana and she's not fucking here.

Before I can call and find out where she is, something catches my attention at the top of the stairs. A door is open that shouldn't be—the playroom door that I haven't walked through in more than a week.

"What the fuck..." I murmur to myself, wondering if Taylor is in there doing his security updates and sweeps. I scowl at the door as I take the stairs two at a time; Taylor never leaves the door wide open like that and when Gail cleans it's typically done during the day while I'm at work.

My entire world screeches to a complete halt as I reach the threshold of the playroom. Ana is inside wandering the room with what I think might be curiosity. I remain silent and still as she reaches the racks of floggers, riding crops, canes, and other punishment implements and hesitantly reaches out to run her fingers across them tentatively as though she fears they'll reach out and bite her. For my part, I'm imagining just that—Ana shackled to the four-poster bed, blindfolded, and completely at my mercy as I work her over with a riding crop. Nothing that will hurt her; just enough to see her perfect skin turn pink as the blood rushes to the surface of her skin. Just the thought tightens my pants almost to the point of pain.

My next thought is that the last time she was in this room, she left me shortly afterwards. I haven't thought of having her in here since that night and more than once I debated getting rid of the room altogether. I still don't know what to do with it, but I can't see Ana ever showing interest in this room. Or I couldn't until right this moment.

Seeing her here is distracting and I really what to know why she's here in the first place. Softly I clear my throat to get her attention, smiling inwardly when she yelps and jumps before turning around. Her blue eyes are wide and the color drains from her face as she tries to stammer out an explanation.

"Um, the door was open," she says breathlessly, knotting her fingers together in front of her. "I was just going to close it, but..."

I cock my head to the side and she flushes. "But you got curious?" I ask, finishing her train of thought. She bites her lip and nods minutely. I smirk, taking a step into the room to stand in front of her. "Certainly not a crime to be curious, Miss Steele. I just never thought this would be something you're curious about."

After all, she let me tie her up in Aspen and if my memory serves me correctly, she enjoyed that at least as much as I did. And I decided a little kinky fuckery might not be the worst thing for us.

But then something else she said registers in my mind and I glance from the open door to Ana, wondering where the key is. "How did you get in here?" I ask her quietly. "Did you ask Gail for the key?"

Ana frowns. "No," she says quietly. "I told you the door was open already. I'm sorry I came in here."

"Don't be sorry," I say automatically, my mind switching gears and processing her words. "The door was open?"

She nods. "Yes. I came home from work, headed into the library to finish some things, and when I went for something to drink, I happened to glance up and saw it."

"Was it open when you got home?" I ask quietly, fighting to quell the sudden surge of anger and fear this conversation is causing.

"I don't know," she whispers, her eyes wide. Clearly I'm not doing a good enough job hiding things from her. "I didn't notice."

Looking around the room, I search for anything out of place, but all I see is Ana. My fear grows as I begin to think of reasons why this door would be open if she didn't use the key. "Come with me," I say darkly, grabbing her hand and practically dragging her out of the room and down the stairs, all the while searching for signs that we're not alone.

"Christian, what..."

I shake my head, asking her to stay quiet for the moment as I call Taylor.

"Mr. Grey," he says when he picks up after the first ring.

"Were you in the playroom today?" I ask him urgently.

He's silent for a moment, surprised at my question. "No, sir. I've been organizing the security upgrades for the apartment all afternoon," he answers.

That's the answer I expected. "What about Gail?" I ask, running my fingers through my hair and pacing. Ana is watching me uneasily as she realizes our current situation and the similarities between now and when Benjamin Reese was breaking into her apartment and moving shit around to freak her out.

"Gail's sister is having surgery tomorrow, Mr. Grey," Taylor answers. "She left this morning."

Fuck. "Check the security footage," I growl into the phone. "Someone's been in the fucking apartment."

When I hang up, Ana is watching me with wide eyes. "Christian?" she whispers.

"Pack a bag," I instruct her quietly, trying to remain calm. "We're leaving."

Her eyes narrow and I know she's on the verge of arguing or at least demanding an explanation. When I glare at her, she pushes back whatever comment she was going to make and I follow her to my bedroom as Taylor and three of his men rush into the apartment to do their investigation or whatever the fuck it is he's doing. I have half a mind to fire my entire fucking security team right this minute for letting this happen after I've told Ana over and over that she is safe here with me.

"Where are we going?" Ana asks quietly as I hastily stuffing things into my messenger bag while Ana searches for her sneakers.

My jaw tenses and I try to keep my temper in check. It's not her fault this is happening just as it wasn't her fault when Benjamin Reese was breaking into her apartment and watching her through some fucking camera for God knows how long. But right now I want her out of here and I'm not certain the apartment is clear. Fuck, for all I know, someone could have installed their own cameras and are listening and watching us right now.

I pause for a second. Great, now I sound like a fucking paranoid lunatic.

"Christian?"

I sigh and turn to her, hoping my expression doesn't look as crazed as I think it might. "We'll talk in the car, baby," I tell her quietly. "Right now, we just need to go."

The fear in her eyes doesn't diminish and I still don't know if it's the situation that's done that to her or my reaction to it. I hope it's not the latter.

Taylor accompanies us to the garage, his jaw tense in anger as he scans every inch of our surroundings for any possible threats, and I find myself mirroring him, gripping tightly to Ana's hand until she's safely in the R8. "Bellevue, sir?" Taylor asks me quietly as I walk to the driver's side of the car.

"No," I answer tightly. "I don't want to bring my family into this any more than I have to. We'll go to the Fairmont. I want every inch of that fucking apartment searched; Ana will not step foot in there until it's safe. The same goes for Gail."

"Yes, sir," Taylor agrees, our voices barely louder than a whisper. "I'll keep you posted."

Nodding curtly, I slide into the driver's seat and moments later, we're pulling into evening Seattle traffic. The tension in the car is palpable as I repeatedly check my mirrors in case we're being followed. I finally begin to relax a little once we're out of downtown Seattle and glance over at Ana, regretting dragging her into this. Sighing, I reach over for the hand she has balled into a fist on her knee; her body relaxes at my touch.

"I'm sorry about this," I tell her quietly. "This is not how I saw tonight panning out."

"It's okay," she says quietly, squeezing my fingers. "You think there was somebody in the apartment?"

I shrug, uncertainty filling my blood the more I think about it. "Taylor says he hasn't been in the playroom today and Gail is out of town. I'm the only other person who has access to the keys and it sure as hell wasn't me. Whatever the answer, I'm not taking the chance that you might be hurt again."

She sighs but otherwise remains silent and for now I'm grateful. My mind is running a mile a minute as I wonder whether this day has actually happened or if it's all been one weird nightmare. When I feel a small soft hand resting on mine, it confirms this is real life; my dreams and nightmares never make me feel as good as I do right now with her fingers curling around my hand. She calms me in a way I don't understand, but I do know I don't ever want to be without it. And that is why we're speeding away from my apartment building as the sun sets.

It's a relief when we're stepping through the door of the Cascade Suite and dropping our bags at the foot of the bed, but now I'm not entirely certain what to do with myself. "Are you hungry?" I ask turning towards Ana who is standing at the window looking outside. The question is automatic; I'm not particularly hungry right now, but at some point we should eat. Not surprisingly, she shakes her head tentatively as though she's worried about my reaction and I realize I have been short with her since dragging her out of the playroom.

I take a deep breath, releasing it slowly as I cross the room to stand in front of her and place my hands on her hips to pull her closer. "I'm sorry I've dragged you into more drama," I murmur with my lips against her forehead.

"Well, we can honestly say life isn't boring," she replies wryly, making me smile. "So you think someone was in your apartment?"

I sigh. I'd hoped we could put this conversation off a little longer, but I should have known her curiosity would win out. "Yes," I say reluctantly. "I don't know who and I don't know how, but yes, I believe someone got in." I shake my head in frustration. "Taylor and I were just discussing upgrading security here this afternoon."

She hesitates. "Benjamin..."

"Has been denied bail," I say, answering her unasked question. "He's not going anywhere anytime soon." She relaxes in my arms. I hate that she's still afraid of that bastard even though he's in police custody. "I suspect this might have something to do with the video."

She nods as though she expected that. "How did it go with Elena?"

Just the mention of her name from Ana's lips is enough to draw me to the bar to pour myself a brandy. I offer to pour one for Ana, but she shakes her head, clearly unwilling to let me distract her with alcohol. It occurs to me that there are other weapons of distraction in my arsenal, but it will only put off the inevitable. Ana sits tentatively on the edge of the sofa looking like a cornered animal waiting for the opportunity to bolt. In order to keep that from happening, I sit in the chair closest to her and sip my drink.

"It went," I say quietly, swirling the remaining liquid in my glass. "I didn't stay any longer than I had to, despite her insistence. And I don't believe she had anything to do with the video."

"How can you be sure?"

"Because I've known her for most of my life and though she spent a lot of time lying to everyone about who and what she really is, I can read her like a fucking book." I tip my glass back, draining it of its contents. "There is a lot more at stake for her than for me if that video goes public. Even if she can't be prosecuted for having sex with a minor, her reputation in the community will be in shambles. She'll lose her social circle and probably her business, too."

I frown to myself. This is the first time I have ever thought or hinted that my relationship with Elena Lincoln might have been wrong. I may have only been fifteen, but I understood that fucking a married woman was wrong. I simply didn't care; in fact, I took pride in the fact that I could satisfy a woman better than her husband who was more than twice my age. Not that I would say that to Anastasia who looks as though she thinks Elena losing everything would be letting her get off easy.

"So who took the video?" Ana asks, getting bolder the more relaxed I become.

I sigh. "Some things were brought to my attention when I got to work. I'm sure you remember Brandon Riley?" Ana's eyes widen in shock at the mention of the name and a moment later, she frowns as she tries to make the connection to our current conversation. "It turns out that Riley has an older brother—a half-brother who had a relationship similar to the one I had with Elena. I'm still looking into it, but I think he was her submissive before me."

Ana blanches as she stares at me and she looks vaguely ill. I wonder briefly if this is all becoming too much and I begin to panic when she suddenly jumps to her feet. Fortunately, she simply crosses the room to the bar and pours her own drink before downing it all in one go. "How much older was he?" she whispers cautiously.

"A few years older, and I believe he was the same age I was when I began my arrangement with Elena," I answer reluctantly. She nods slowly as she processes the information and pours another drink. I have a faint desire to end this conversation now just so she can eat something if she's going to keep doing that. "My guess, and I won't know unless I've spoken to Elena again, is that she ended their arrangement shortly before ours began and he was upset about that, so he set up the camera to... I don't know... blackmail her, maybe."

"But why wait all this time?" she asks.

I shrug, wondering about that same thing. "I honestly don't know. Maybe he was waiting for his opportunity to fuck Elena over and when I fired Riley that turned into wanting to fuck me over."

"So you think he's behind this whole leak thing?"

"It's possible," I admit. "He probably would have told Riley everything he knows about me, and Riley is smart enough to keep things quiet until the situation best suits his needs."

Ana nods and finally returns to the couch. I watch her closely as she thinks about this entire situation, waiting for the moment that she tells me it's all too much and she leaves. The mere thought of the possibility terrifies me and I have to swallow down the rising pain and darkness. "Okay," she says quietly. "So should we have dinner now?"

The question shocks me so much that I drop my empty glass to the floor. "You're staying?" I whisper in disbelief.

She frowns at me. "Um, yes?" she says, my tone making her uncertain. "Why wouldn't I?"

When I simply stare at her, she must figure out the reason for my reaction, because she sighs. "Christian, I'm not going anywhere unless you want me to. You put up with my crap from the beginning; if I walked away from you now, it would be as though I don't appreciate everything you've done for me. Besides," she reaches over for my hand, "I love you. I want to help you through this no matter what it takes."

My relief would have been embarrassing only a few months ago; now I don't give a fuck. I yank on her hand to pull her into my lap and wrap my arms around her, just to hold her for a while. "You're amazing," I breathe against her hair. "Thank you. And I love you, too, more than I could ever express."

Eventually we break apart and I go in search of the room service menu before ordering our dinner. I'd prefer to take Ana out for a night on the town, but given the reason we're here, it's probably for the best that we stay here. Through dinner, we keep the conversation light while Ana tells me a little more about her college days. The name José Rodriguez has come up a few times since we've been together and I can't help the pang of jealousy that hits me when she talks about him. From what I've gathered, if Ana had been a bit more receptive to it, Rodriguez would have jumped at the chance to be with her. The fact that she seems to think of him as little more than a brother is slightly comforting, but I won't be taking my chances if the two of them decide to get together and catch up.

"What about the potential break-in at your apartment?" Ana asks quietly while we share a large slice of apple pie for dessert.

For a second, I want to correct her and say _our apartment_ , but I remember she hasn't actually agreed to move in with me. I'll have to work on that a little more once this situation settles a bit. I want to give her a flippant, dismissive response, but all things considered, she has every right to know what's happening around her. "If there really was a break-in," I begin carefully, "I suspect it might be related to everything else that's going on. I doubt it was Riley, though I have arranged a meeting with him for tomorrow to find out what the fuck he knows. It could have been the half-brother looking to get more dirt on me and photos of my playroom would be the perfect ammunition to take this thing to a new level. Or he could be warning me that I'm not as safe as I think I am. What really bothers me is the thought that he could have been in the apartment while you were there. If he had been a little bolder, who knows what he would have done." I shudder at the thought.

Ana's expression softens. "I'm fine," she reminds me, resting her hand on mine. "And I'm stronger than I look."

I give her a half-smile. "I know that, baby. But if something happened to you again because of me, I wouldn't be able to handle it."

"I don't want anything to happen to you either," she says softly.

My smile grows slightly at her concern. "I know," I admit just as softly. After a few moments, we resume eating our pie and though I would be happy to take her to bed right now to make us both forget, we curl up on the couch together and find a movie to watch. All throughout the movie, though, I think about seeing her in my playroom this evening and I know it's something we'll need to discuss at some point, so why not now?

"When you were in the playroom tonight, what were you thinking about?" I ask her tentatively.

She pulls away enough to look at me in an attempt to decipher my mood. "Mostly that it was difficult to imagine somebody actually being willing to have those things used on them," she says cautiously. "I mean, you've explained the whole thing to me, but until I was in there again, it didn't really... click, you know?."

"I've been thinking about getting rid of that room altogether," I admit quietly. "I don't see any real point in keeping it if it's not something you're interested in."

"You might change your mind, though," she whispers, her eyes wide. "You might get bored of me and meet somebody who is into that sort of thing..."

I place a finger on her lips to stop her from saying anything more. "First of all, I don't think I'll ever get bored of you," I scoff at the very notion. "Nobody has ever fascinated me the way you do and I don't intend to ever let you go. Second of all, I have had several women in that room with me over the years, women who eagerly submitted to my will and allowed me to do whatever I wanted to them. It fulfilled a need in me, but even before meeting you, it was starting to lose its appeal and now I realize I would rather have somebody who challenges me and makes me laugh—somebody who loves me despite my issues. Too many people try to attach themselves to me because of my looks or my wealth and success; I know none of those things matter to you and it's one of them million things I love about you."

She smiles shyly at me. "Well, I wouldn't say none of it matters to me," she begins teasingly. "You are a very attractive man after all."

I give her a wide smile. "Is that so?" I ask innocently.

She rolls her eyes while her lips twitch. "Innocence does not become you, Mr. Grey," she chides.

"Maybe not," I say in a low voice, "but I'm apparently attractive enough to pull it off."

She laughs and I can't resist anymore, not when she looks so beautiful. Abandoning what is left of our dessert, I scoop Ana up, ignoring her surprised yelp and bolt for the bedroom.

* * *

Hours later while Ana sleeps soundly in my arms, I'm once again suffering from insomnia. I typically sleep the whole night through with her beside me, but I suppose with everything going on I'm simply too keyed up to turn off my mind. I want this to end now. I want my life to go back to normal or whatever normal is for people in real relationships. I want to beat the shit out of Benjamin Reese for everything he did to Ana then I want to beat the shit out of Brandon Riley and his fucking half-brother. It's not a healthy response to this stress, I know that, but it doesn't matter. Somebody else should suffer for this.

Feeling more agitated the longer I think about it, I carefully disengage myself from Ana and slip out of bed. Unfortunately my usual middle of the night stress outlet of my piano isn't an option,` so instead I step out onto the balcony of the suite overlooking the Seattle financial district in the pre-dawn light. I wish Ana and I were here for different reasons and that we could actually enjoy our stay. It reminds me of being with her in Aspen and how much that weekend meant to me. I'll need to ensure we get away together more often.

As it is, our brief escape from the real world is nearly at an end already. I can't put off this meeting with Brandon Riley and I really need to find out what is going on in my apartment. At the thought, I trudge back into the suite and find my BlackBerry on the dinner table where I left it and begin sorting through the text messages and emails I've received since last night but ignored in favor of Ana. There are several from Taylor informing me that a thorough search of the penthouse showed no signs of a break-in or that anybody might have still been there when I got home from work. Another states that he combed through the security footage minute by minute, but it didn't show anybody there. A third one from a few hours later requests that he meet with me before my meeting with Riley. It doesn't say why, but I get the impression he found something and didn't want to tell me via text message. The fact that there is no message telling me it's safe to bring Ana back to Escala doesn't escape my notice so I make a mental note to extend our stay here until I know more.

And I received an email from Elena shortly after I took Ana to bed. To my surprise it isn't another attempt to turn me against Ana or to convince me that I'd be better off with a little brown-haired submissive; instead it's a thank you for informing her about the video. I shake my head and delete the message knowing it's her way of getting me to talk to her again. She says thank you, I respond, it turns into a request for more information, and before I know it, we're having lunch and she's getting into my head again. Well, not this time. I've made my decision with the knowledge of how Ana feels about Elena and it's more important to me to have Ana in my life when this is all said and done. Besides, even if this video does somehow become public, it's Elena's own fault for fucking teenage boys.

Part of me wants to go to Bellevue and prepare my family should the video become public, but I know just how badly that announcement would go. First my mother would kill me then she'd go after Elena, and afterwards she would bring me back to life only to kill me again. No, my family knows more about me than I ever wanted them to know and even one more thing could push them over the line of cutting all ties with me. Besides Ana, they are the only people I care about and revealing my true self to any of them simply isn't an option.

* * *

 **A/N:** Massive apologies for the delay. I've been having some technical problems with my computer and haven't been able to upload any chapters. Anyway, that seems to have passed, so thanks for the patience and the reviews. Over 1500! That's awesome! Until next time, hope you enjoyed the chapter!


	27. Chapter 27

"Mr. Grey, Mr. Reilly has arrived."

I take a deep breath and release it slowly as I stare at the intercom on my desk in preparation for what I know will be a frustrating meeting. After this, I'll meet with Taylor to find out what it was he couldn't tell me about over the phone. Whatever it is, it's made him late for work for the first time since I've known him and it's starting to make me nervous, something that doesn't sit very well with me at all.

"Send him in, Andrea," I say finally, adjusting myself in my hair and buttoning my suit coat. I've dealt with assholes like Brandon Riley before, people who think they can blackmail me and get away with it. It's never gotten to this level, but it's no different and I refuse to display even an iota of the frustration I'm feeling right now in front of him. This is my world and I am in control here.

My office door opens a moment later and I stay completely still with my hands resting on the arms of my chair, my eyes following every one of Riley's movements with a blank expression despite how much I want to wrap my fingers around his neck right now.

"Grey," Riley says shortly. He's dressed as impeccably as he ever was for work and doesn't look the slightest bit flustered about being in my presence. That will change. "Long time no see. Miss me?"

"Have a seat, Riley," I say quietly, ignoring whatever bait he's trying to dangle in front of me.

He does, leaning back in his chair crossing one ankle of a knee in an attempt to seem casual. "So what's this about, Grey? Did you finally figure out you're not as immune to public criticism as you thought?"

"How's Travis Kingston, Riley?" I ask coldly. "Your half-brother if I understand correctly?"

The fact that he actually jumps a little in surprise at my question tells me he had no idea exactly how much I've learned about him. It's better than I could have anticipated.

"Excuse me?" he asks indignantly.

"Oh, drop it," I say in disgust. "Did you really think I wouldn't figure it all out? All your hints about how you know so much about me that other people don't... There are only a few ways you could know those things and only one that you could possibly gain access to."

"Is that so?" he says challengingly. "So why am I here, Grey? Going to try buying me off?"

"Why would I give you the satisfaction of giving you my money?" I ask him rhetorically. "Why are you doing this? Because I fired you?"

He scoffs. "I don't know what the hell you're talking about. I will say you firing me was absolute bullshit, though; all because I was talking to your little intern girlfriend."

I suddenly have the urge to leap across my desk to punch him for bringing Ana into this. "It wasn't that you were talking to Miss Steele, Riley. It's that you were speaking of things your NDA explicitly forbade you from talking about, like my personal life."

"Personal life," he says, scoffing again. "You think you're such a great guy, don't you, Grey? Youngest CEO and billionaire in America. Women falling at your feet everywhere you go. Awards and accolades you probably don't actually deserve. You're a fucking college dropout who got lucky and now thinks he can do whatever he wants without consequences. It was only a matter of time before someone started airing out your dirty laundry."

"What's your brother got to do with this? What the fuck is it he wants?"

"Just to see you drown," Riley says, smiling coldly. "He thought the whole BDSM thing would be enough to rip apart your carefully constructed world, but apparently you're a bit more resourceful than he anticipated."

The fact that he is openly admitting to me that his brother is involved should be a moment of victory for me, but this is far too easy.

"Tell me, Grey, how would you feel to know that someone you loved was being tortured and tormented for years and suddenly they were just thrown away like a piece of trash to fend for themselves? They're never quite the same as they were before and there isn't a fucking thing you can do about it, until one day there is. Are you telling me you wouldn't jump at the chance for some payback? What if it was your little Ana?"

I'm quite proud of my self-restraint right now as I lean forward, resting my elbows on my desk. "You can leave Ana out of this," I warn quietly. "He wants payback? Fine, go after Elena Lincoln and leave me the fuck out of it."

"He can't," Riley says, shrugging. "Sorry, Grey, but once he gets an idea in his head, he's not going to let it go. He's been planning this for years and he's not going to just walk away."

"This is bullshit," I say through gritted teeth.

"Bullshit or not, it's happening. And I'll tell you this much: it goes a hell of a lot deeper than you think it does and it's much closer to you. You might want to take a better look at your employees."

I'm momentarily stunned by his threat and when he stands, I know it's best to let him walk away. If I don't, I'll end up ripping him apart right here in my office and that won't solve a fucking thing. Then again, neither did this ridiculous fucking meeting. All it's done is piss me off even more, especially when he brought Ana into it. That alone was reason enough to handle this my own way, but I can't protect her if I'm in jail for murdering a piece of shit like Riley.

I don't know how much time passes between when Riley leaves and when Andrea pages me again to inform me of Taylor's arrival. My head of security enters looking as though he hasn't slept at all.

"You met with Riley?" he asks, taking a seat.

I raise an eyebrow at the curt tone, but don't call him on it. This situation is stressing him out just as much as it is me. "I did," I confirm. "And it didn't give me much more to go on. He admitted his brother's involvement, but wouldn't say why they're doing this or what it is they want. What have you discovered?"

"I asked Barney to take another look at the security footage when I noticed an inconsistency."

I frown. "What inconsistency?"

Taylor reaches down at his feet and picks up his iPad, setting on my desk so that we can both see it. He scrolls through a few things until pulling up what I recognize as the security footage in my apartment. "This is a live feed right now in the apartment," he says, his finger pointing between five frames of video—one in the foyer, one in the great room, another on the second floor aimed towards the door of the playroom, and the other two focused on the patio. Taylor taps the screen a few times and the same views pop up with similar results—there is nothing to see. "This was the footage we sorted through last evening after you and Miss Steele left. It's a timeframe between 5:30PM and 7:30PM." He points at the elevator doors as the video begins to play.

"There's nothing there," I say.

"But there should be," Taylor insists. "Sawyer and Miss Steele arrived at Escala at 5:34. Sawyer went to the security room; Miss Steele headed into the library. The footage from the Escala garage shows them pulling in, but according to the penthouse footage, they never arrived."

"So the feed was bad," I suggest.

Taylor shakes his head. "Barney did a bit of digging. Somehow the actual live feed was replaced with this footage and we have no visual of anybody getting in or getting out again."

I stare at him in disbelief. "Are you seriously telling me we've been _Ocean Elevened_?" I ask in a low voice.

Taylor tilts his head to the side for a moment as he thinks about it. "It seems so, sir," he answers. And for the flash of a second I think we might actually laugh at the absolute absurdity of the situation. "Mr. Grey, the only way anybody could gain access to the video footage of your penthouse is through the computers in the security office. I checked; the only people in or out of the apartment have been security personnel."

My entire body freezes at his words and I momentarily stop breathing. He cannot be implying what I think he is implying. "Be very fucking careful what you say next, Taylor, because right now I will not hesitate to fire my entire fucking team and that will include you," I threaten. "What, exactly, are you saying?"

Taking a deep breath, knowing full fucking well I'm serious right now, Taylor considers his words carefully. "I'm doing thorough checks, Mr. Grey. Every CPO has their own code to access the apartment, so we know exactly who arrived when. Aside from myself, the only others to enter were Sawyer, Reynolds, and Ryan."

"And who is with Anastasia?" I ask despite knowing the answer.

"Sawyer," Taylor confirms. "His alibi for the day is solid; he was with Miss Steele all day and the only time his code was used was in the morning when he picked up Miss Steele and in the afternoon when he brought her back. Both Ryan and Reynolds were in and out of the building on various errands under my directive to improve on the apartment's security."

"So it's one of them," I conclude.

"It would seem so," Taylor replies. "However, before accusations are made, I would like to make a more in-depth inquiry. If by some chance, one of them is responsible for breaking into your apartment, I suspect they could be involved in our other current troubles."

I huff a humorless laugh at his choice of words. "Troubles" doesn't quite seem to fit; shit-storm would be more appropriate terminology. "And who knows where Ana and I are currently staying?"

"Only me," Taylor assures me. "None of the others have asked to be brought into the loop; they're aware of the protocol."

I suddenly understand what he's getting at. "And you don't want them figuring out that you might be onto them yet, so you're asking if I'm willing to let this go on a little longer," I say dryly.

Taylor shifts uncomfortably in his chair. "Yes, sir."

I can see his point. We don't know what the endgame here is or what might happen if those involved get spooked. People backed into corners react like wild animals—who knows what lengths they'll go to if they decide they need to cover their asses and I won't risk Ana's safety. "You have two days," I say firmly. "This shit is disturbing not only my day-to-day life but Ana's and my family's. I want this done and over with as cleanly as possible."

Taylor nods his understanding. "I'll go check with Welch to see what he knows. In the meantime, I'd like to extend Sawyer's responsibilities to you as well as Miss Steele."

"Which involves him trailing us back to the hotel," I finish for him. He nods. "And you're absolutely certain we can trust Sawyer?"

"I personally vouch for him," Taylor says without hesitation. "I've known him for years and he'd sooner cut off his right arm than fuck up a job."

"You'd better be right," I warn him. "Do whatever you need to do. I want hourly updates."

* * *

Typically, I frown upon drinking at work apart from the odd scotch to celebrate a particularly difficult deal being finalized or when I'm meeting with important clients and want them in a good mood for whatever I have planned. Today I'm not sure there is enough alcohol in the city of Seattle to calm my nerves and stop me from doing something incredibly stupid. I've had to remind myself that I have relied on Jason Taylor's instincts for nearly five years now and he's only let me down once—and really, the incident where Benjamin Reese ambushed him and Ana outside GEH wasn't entirely his fault. The protocol was that Sawyer was to wait outside and Taylor followed Ana to ensure she was covered on all sides. In the ten seconds between Taylor contacting Sawyer for him to be ready and actually opening that door, all hell broke loose. I might have wanted to fire them both for what happened and what could have happened to Ana, but they were both doing their jobs exactly as ordered.

Now I have to once again place my trust in other people to keep Anastasia safe. Brandon Riley might have been talking out of his ass, but I haven't forgotten his implied threats. I have half a mind to just grab Ana and leave the fucking country until this whole thing blows over. Tossing back another shot of brandy I remind myself about not doing anything rash, however much I want to. That also means not firing my entire security team until Taylor does his investigations.

By the end of the day, I've taken my frustrations out on every person who stepped through my office door including Ros's intern who dropped in to bring me some contracts that needed my signature. He returned to his desk in tears. It was slightly satisfying for me until Ros caught up with me. As always the patented Christian Grey shrivel-up-and-die look didn't work on her which means I'll have to apologize to the sniveling idiot who can't handle a few harsh words. Tomorrow, perhaps. We'll see how things go.

On my way down to the lobby I consider taking Ana out to dinner in the hopes that for once we could pretend that we're just two normal people who love each other enjoying one another's company. That thought comes to an abrupt halt at the thought that in public anything could happen whether Taylor and Sawyer are with us or not and it isn't a risk worth taking.

For the first time since this morning, I actually manage a smile when I spot Ana near the front desk. She's talking animatedly to one of her co-workers, the one she went out drinking with a while back while she and I were apart. Sawyer is beside them, his eyes scanning every inch of the area. The moment I reach Ana, her friend's eyes widen in what might either be fear or possibly lust. He mutters something unintelligible to Ana and quickly scurries off out the building. I huff a laugh as Ana watches him leave with bewilderment.

"I'm starting to question the judgment of my HR department," I say quietly to Ana, reaching out for her hand. My smile widens when she doesn't blush and look around at all the people who are sneaking glances at us like she has been since we went public. "Anyone working in Public Relations should at least be able to look at the CEO for whom he works without wetting himself."

Ana raises an eyebrow at me as Sawyer leads the way to the garage. "Yes, well, apparently the CEO in question has been on the warpath today," she says dully. "I heard he broke two windows and threatened to fire everyone on the fifth floor because someone got his lunch order wrong."

I try to control my amusement, but feel my lips twitch. "I resent such rumor-mongering," I say coolly, keeping my eyes locked on the elevator display. "There was no window breaking involved, thank you very much."

When she doesn't laugh as expected, I glance down and find her looking back at me with a frown. "What?" I ask softly, squeezing her fingers.

She shrugs. "What really happened?" she asks hesitantly as we climb into the SUV.

I sigh. So much for leaving the drama at work for the night... "I'll tell you later," I reply. "Right now I just need to hold your hand and unwind for a while. Okay?"

She nods silently and the tension that I've been feeling all day fills the car. I don't much give a shit about my employees spreading rumors about me and my temper, but the last thing I want is for Ana to fear me the way most of them do. The problem is, I don't know how much more of this bullshit I can take before I lose it completely and chances are high that Ana will be around when it does happen.

Sawyer drops us off outside the entrance to the Fairmont and as we step into the elevator, my BlackBerry rings—a call from Ros. My mind is so distracted with a million and one other things that I hardly register whatever it is my second in command is telling me; something about the necessity of us going down to Portland to scout a building and land to house a farming department. Every so often I glance over at Ana to find her twisting her fingers together and staring at her shoes. Is this mood of hers because of the continuing drama in my life or is she worried I'll snap at her if she does anything more?

Inside the suite, Ana takes her bag directly to the bedroom and I watch her with a frown. Twenty minutes ago she had no problem teasing me; now she won't even look at me. Part of me wonders if this is because I didn't share my day with her when she asked. Slowly I walk to the bedroom and lean against the doorframe, watching as she changes out of her dress and into something more comfortable. I manage to hold off going to her and helping her remove the rest of her clothes, until she bends over wearing nothing but panties, stockings, and heels.

Groaning softly, I'm pressed against her backside before she can even straighten up.

"Can I help you, Mr. Grey?" she asks, feigning disinterest.

I smile against her bare shoulder, my hands sliding around to her front. One hand travels down, tracing the lacy line of her panties while the other moves up and traps a nipple between my fingers. A small part of me knows we should be talking rather than ignoring all of our problems, but just having her in my arms calms me more than anything else in the world ever could. "As a matter of fact, you can help me, Miss Steele," I murmur as my lips take her earlobe between them. "I have an urgent problem that requires close and immediate attention."

She whimpers when I gently bite down on the skin between her neck and shoulder and I press my growing erection into her. My hands slips beneath her panties, but the moment I feel how wet she is, she twists out of my grip, surprising the hell out of me. I don't think she's ever pulled away from me like that and I can't recall any woman ever doing so. My stomach fills with lead as she puts more distance between us and reaches for a t-shirt to put on.

"What's wrong?" I whisper fearfully, my mind jumping to conclusions. She twists her fingers together again and panic rises in my chest. When she doesn't immediately reply, I try again. "Ana, what is it?"

She sighs as she gathers her thoughts and all I can think about is that she's finally gotten sick of the bullshit and has decided to leave before it gets any more complicated. "I want to talk to you about something," she says nervously.

"Okay," I say in the same tone. "What is it?"

"I've been thinking," she says, sitting down on the edge of the bed. Hesitantly, I sit beside her, keeping the distance she's placed between us. "About what you asked me last week—about moving in with you."

I steel myself for the pain I'm about to experience and wonder if there will be any point in anything I do without her. I knew this was all too good to be true; I've done absolutely nothing to deserve something as wonderful as Anastasia Steele. "What about it?" I ask tightly.

She takes a deep breath. "I'll move in with you," she says so quietly that I convince myself I didn't hear it after all.

I feel myself nodding and it takes me a minute to realize she's still sitting beside me; she hasn't grabbed her stuff and run out of the room as quickly as possible. Finally her words sink in and I turn towards her. "What did you say?" I ask, needing the clarification before allowing myself to hope.

A shy smile grows on her lips. "I said that I will move in with you," she replies quietly. When I don't reply quickly, her expression begins to fall. "That is still what you want, isn't it?"

I know I should say something, tell her that hell yes it's what I want, or even that I love her, but all I can manage to do is push her down onto the mattress and crawl over her, crushing my lips to hers in an attempt to convey without words how much she means to me. When her fingers twist in my hair, I'm lost in sensation, but manage to pull back just enough to speak. "Yes, it's what I want," I say against her lips. "I want it more than I could ever tell you."

The smile she gives me somehow makes her even more beautiful than before. A second later all thoughts are forced from my mind and all that matters is Ana and me and how we make each other feel.

* * *

"You really meant that, right?"

I'm lying on my back with Ana curled up on my chest as we simply enjoy the feel of one another. No matter what happens, I don't think I could ever give her up, not when I know how amazing it is to just connect with another human being. Inwardly, I frown; when the fuck did I turn into a lovesick sap? I glance down at my chest and know the answer immediately: It happened the moment I set eyes on Anastasia Steele.

"Hmm?" she questions.

"About moving in," I elaborate. "Did you mean it?"

She lifts her head and looks at me, searching my expression. "I wouldn't have said it if I didn't, Christian," she says gently.

I relax. "You know I was starting to think that all this bullshit was going to drive you away from me," I admit in a low voice, holding her tighter against me. "When you said you wanted to talk tonight..."

She nods solemnly. "I thought that might have been where your mind was going," she whispers. "I've already told you, Christian; I'm not going anywhere. I won't let anyone or anything chase me away from you again."

My smile is shy. "Good," I whisper. "I feel the same way."

Her goofy smile must match mine by now. A moment or two later, her smile begins to fade and I know where her thoughts have gone before she can even speak them. "So you were going to tell me about your day," she says cautiously.

I sigh, releasing her enough that I can roll onto my side facing her. She does the same, though I don't miss how she subtly tries to pull the sheets up to cover her breasts. Then again, it's probably best that way; if we try to have this conversation while my eyes are continually drawn to her chest, we won't get very far.

"Taylor believes there may be somebody in the security team working for or with Brandon Riley's brother," I begin slowly. "The apartment has been turned into a fortress. Nobody apart from you, me, and staff can gain access without proper credentials and alerting Taylor himself. We suspect that's how someone got into the apartment and into the playroom, though I'm still waiting on theories as to why they're so interested in the playroom."

Ana frowns in thought. "Pictures, maybe?" she suggests. "Something to sell to the news rags since people have lost interest in what's been leaked so far?"

I consider this for a moment. "Certainly possible," I murmur. "My biggest concern at the moment is them getting anywhere near you. I spoke to Riley this morning and after a few minutes he practically admitted his and his brother's involvement. He didn't say why or what it is they want, but he did hint about being angry that the brother spent all his time with Elena only for her to drop him suddenly."

"So why not just go after her?" Ana asks.

I shake my head. "I asked the same question; I don't know." I hesitate as an idea pops into my head, one that will keep Ana safe and outside the line of fire so to speak. "All I know for sure is that they will use anything at their disposal to punish me for whatever it is they think I did. They might use you to get to me and I'm not willing to risk that." I take a deep breath as her eyes widen with a hint of panic and I know she's thinking I'm going to send her away for her own good. Well, she isn't totally wrong... "Maybe you should go visit your mother in Savannah for a week or two, or even your dad in Montesano."

She raises an eyebrow at me. "Christian, did you not hear me less than ten minutes ago when I said I'm not going to let anyone or anything scare me away again?"

"This is different," I insist. "I'm not asking you to leave for good, just until this blows over a bit."

"And if it takes longer than a week or two? Christian, unless you've forgotten, I've got a job. With your company, no less. Since I started, I've taken more than the allotted personal time. People have already started treating me differently since we went public; I don't see any reason to change my behavior now."

Her tone is so matter-of-fact that for a moment I wonder if she even really understands the situation. But of course she understands; she's certainly no idiot and I feel guilty for insulting her intelligence. Still I need to argue my point, to give her the chance to get out if that's what she so decides.

"Ana, if something were to happen to you because of me and all the bullshit I carry around with me, I would never forgive myself," I say emphatically, my chest tightening in fear and anger at the very thought. "I've already spent more time than I ever wanted sitting at your hospital bedside hoping like hell you would be all right and in the meantime fantasizing about everything I wanted to do to that fucker Reese. I failed at keeping you safe from him and I cannot make that mistake again."

She shakes her head, still holding the sheet across her chest as she sits up. "No," she argues. " _That_ was my fault. I'm the one who ignored all the signs that he was breaking into my apartment and following me all over town, because I wanted to pretend it wasn't happening." Before I can argue back, she places a finger against my lips. "I understand the risks with what you're dealing with right now. I'm not going into this blindly, Christian."

I take a deep breath, unable to remain unaffected by her words no matter how hard I try. "I appreciate your loyalty," I say quietly. "It means the world to me, but—"

" _Loyalty?"_ she says incredulously. "Christian, this isn't about loyalty," she speaks the word as though it's disgusting to her. "I love you. You helped me through the shit with Benjamin and when someone began leaking information about your personal life, I said it didn't matter to me. This doesn't matter either. And I am not going anywhere, not even to Montesano or Savannah. I trust you to keep me safe, Christian; trust me enough to believe I know what I'm doing."

For several seconds, all I can do is stare at her. Too many people would consider this situation high-risk solely for their own reputations and would bail at the first opening. I might be one of them depending on the circumstances, but Ana is stronger than that—she's stronger than I am. It could all boil down to being young or that she's innocent and wide-eyed and naïve. Whatever the answer, it doesn't matter right now. I never thought I'd have anyone like her and I'll be damned if I lose her over this.

When I still have no words, I do the only thing that makes sense which is to tug the sheet from her grasp and push her down into the mattress again to show her exactly what this means to me.


	28. Chapter 28

I've never considered myself to be the paranoid type who sees threats around every corner, but recently I'm realizing that the people I've trusted all this time might actually be out to get me. I see enemies spread out among the faces in every crowd I come across. Sitting at my desk in Grey House, I wonder why and how it has come to this. I've been chased away from my own home, forced to look over my shoulder, and question every judgment I've ever made in regards to my personal security. Clearly I've been lax when I believed I was doing everything possible to keep myself and my loved ones safe.

In the middle of my self-deprecating moment, my phone rings. I glance at it automatically, rolling my eyes at the sight of my brother's name on the display for the sixth time this morning. Resigning myself to the knowledge that he won't stop until he's spoken to me, I answer the call and don't even have the chance to ask him what the fuck he wants.

"Finally!" he exclaims when he hears my intake of breath. "Jesus, you've always been difficult to get a hold of, but this is fucking ridiculous."

"Hello, Elliot," I say flatly, pinching the bridge of my nose. "It's wonderful to hear your voice, too."

Elliot huffs in annoyance. "You don't even know, do you?"

My paranoia turned irritation now turns into concern. "What happened? Mom and Dad?"

"No, no, they're fine," he responds hastily. "Mia, too. This isn't about them. It's about Elena Lincoln."

And the paranoia returns as I wonder if somebody delivered a certain video to my parents, showing them everything I never wanted them to know. "What about Elena?" I ask, trying to keep my voice even.

"Dude, someone broke into her house last night and beat the shit out of her," he says quietly. "The police don't know who it was and Elena is unconscious, so she can't point any fingers."

I nearly drop my phone in shock. "What?" I ask, wondering if I even heard him right.

"That's not even the most disturbing thing," Elliot goes on as though I didn't say anything. "Her neighbor went over this morning and found the door wide open, so she went in to see if everything was all right. She found Elena in the basement completely naked and chained to a cross or some weird shit." He pauses for a moment, probably for effect, and I try to process what I've just been told.

"Christian, Elena has some sort of sex dungeon in her basement. Right beneath the kitchen. You know, the kitchen where we've had meals a hundred times over the years. She's into that BDSM shit you are, isn't she?"

I freeze, trying to think of any possible response to this. Sometimes I forget that beneath the frat boy mentality and the big stupid grins Elliot is actually very observant and intuitive. "Elliot," I begin quietly.

"Fuck, Christian," he hisses. "She got you into that shit, didn't she?"

Hesitating, I know there isn't any way to avoid answering this question and if Elliot detects even a hint that I'm lying, he'll never stop. Part truths are better than the whole truth and if it gets him off my back for awhile, so much the better. "Yes, she introduced me to it," I say, unable to really believe I'm having this conversation with my brother.

On the other end of the line, I can sense my brother's hesitation and horror. "You know, I remember when we were growing up and how Elena always seemed to take an interest in you. I never really thought much about it until these stories of you started coming out, but thinking back, you were a complete dick for most of your life then all of a sudden that changed. I figured you'd just finally grew the fuck out of it. But that isn't what happened, is it?"

"Elliot..." I say again, warningly.

"It was right after the last time you got expelled from school," he says, still not hearing me as he begins to draw his conclusions. "Then all of a sudden you started spending all that time at the Lincolns' place. Or that's what you said. I assumed you were finally getting laid. What really happened, Christian? You were fucking Elena in that sex dungeon?

I inwardly groan. "Elliot, I cannot talk about this over the phone."

He lets out a surprised huff as I all but confirm his theory. "Well, then," he says coldly. "I hope the rumors about the bitch being half-dead are true."

My eyes widen in surprise; I don't think I've ever heard him speak like that about anybody. But now that he's reminded me why he called in the first place, I have other business to attend to. "Look, let's go out for a beer on Friday and if you really want to know about this shit, then I'll tell you. But I need to get back to work."

"Fine," Elliot says, subdued.

"In the meantime, I'd appreciate it if you didn't mention this to anyone, especially Mom and Dad."

"Oh, don't worry about that," he says emphatically. "I wouldn't want to be in the same country as Mom if she found out about this, let alone the same fucking room."

After a reminder that I agreed to have a beer with him on Friday, Elliot hangs up and for a moment, I sit in still silence as the conversation washes over me. I received a similar call about seven years ago, only then I'd been young and on a high from the success of my new company. That was when Elena had been put into the hospital because her husband found out we'd been fucking for six years right under his nose. He beat the shit out of her, almost killed her, and after seeing her broken in that hospital bed with a concussion that knocked her out for three days and her eyes so swollen she couldn't even open them, I went out and got shit-faced drunk while I debated all the ways I wanted to make that piece of shit wife beater suffer. I even went so far as to drive to his house, but the prick wasn't home. Was he at his wife's side, holding her hand, and hoping for her speedy recovery? No, he was out fucking some little blonde coed across town. I came to my senses the next day once I got past the hangover and Elena eventually talked me out of immediate revenge. So I've spent all these years waiting for Linc to fuck me over again somehow. That plan is still waiting in my back pocket.

Now, however, my urge is not to run to Elena's side or go after whoever did this to her. My only concern is assuring that whoever did this to her won't come after me, or worse, after Anastasia. So to appease my growing paranoia, my first call is to Sawyer to ensure he has eyes on my girl and to give instructions that she goes nowhere alone. Next I call Taylor and bring him up to speed, and he asks whether I want him to look into Elena's attack. I agree only because it could possibly affect me as well. I then debate calling my parents, or at least my father, and confessing everything I haven't yet told them. It's been on my mind since the BDSM story broke out. If they're going to find out, I know it would be better coming from me. The problem is that once I tell them the chances of them shutting me out of their lives are high. But the thought of my mother sitting at Elena's side at the hospital thinking Elena is her best friend and could do no wrong leaves a bad taste in my mouth. Then I remember my parents are out of town for the week. Carrick joined Grace at some medical conference in Phoenix and they won't be home until Saturday at the earliest. I suppose it's possible they could come home early in like of Elena's attack, but if I remember correctly, my mother is going to be a keynote speaker on Friday and it's a pretty big deal for her. So I'll wait until my talk with Elliot and assess his reaction before talking to my parents.

The rest of the day is uneventful apart from Taylor's announcement that Ryan, one of the members of my security team, has suddenly declared he needs to take personal time this morning and shortly after left the state. He's headed to Illinois where he's from, supposedly to be with his sick father. It's almost too coincidental that he left only hours after Elena was taken to the hospital. Welch is charged with keeping an eye on his every move. Reynolds checks out and after digging deeper than what is considered to be strictly legal, he has no possible connections with Elena Lincoln, Brandon Riley, or Travis Kingston.

It's a hell of a relief when Taylor drops Ana and me off outside the entrance of Escala. I'm only now realizing that I've actually missed being home and that part of my uneasiness in the last few days has been a result of being away.

I've told Ana everything from Elliot's phone call about Elena's hospitalization and my sudden decision to come clean to my parents. Since I've gotten to know Ana so well over the last few months, I'm able to pick up the brief trace of what I think might be glee when I tell her about Elena, but she hides it well. My reservations about spending Friday night with Elliot instead of Ana are alleviated when she tells me her father is going to be in town that night and she's planning to have dinner with him anyway. I briefly debate cancelling my drink with Elliot so I can meet Ana's father, but the look on her face when I suggest it tells me she'd rather I didn't.

"I've told my parents about us," she says as we take the elevator up to my apartment. "I told them before the news about you broke. Since then, they've questioned my judgment and I just think it might be better if Ray sees me without you first so he can see that I'm happy with you and that I haven't been brainwashed or something. Once I reassure him you're not some monster who is taking advantage of me because I'm young and naïve, it'll be safe for you to be in the same room with him without bloodshed."

My first reaction at the thought of anybody's father coming after me is amusement—it would certainly be another first. My second reaction is the return of my paranoia. Is she hesitant to introduce me to her father because she's ashamed? I wouldn't blame her; there is quite a lot to be ashamed of. But I fear this will also mean that her father could convince her to leave me and it's that fear that leads me to mutter something to Ana about getting work done in my office and leaving her standing confused in the great room.

I spend nearly an hour at my desk staring at spreadsheets on my computer screen before a soft knock on the door startles me from my increasingly dark thoughts. I'm not surprised to find Ana at my door carrying two glasses of wine.

"Getting any work done?" she asks, setting one of the glasses in front of me and sitting beside me on the edge of my desk.

I huff. "No," I admit, sipping my wine. "Lost in my thoughts."

She nods as though she expected that answer. "Well, you left before you let me finish my thought." I'm slightly surprised but pleased when she slides off the desk and into my lap. I give her a small smile and wrap my arms around her waist. "So, Ray gets in Friday night. On Saturday, he's going to spend the day hiking with an old army buddy. I thought that on Sunday you, Ray, and I could spend the day together. We could have lunch or maybe take him out on your boat..."

"Or," I say slowly, relieved that my thoughts were wrong, "there's a Mariners game in town on Sunday. And I've got season tickets and a skybox."

Ana looks up at me, beaming at my suggestion. "Ray would love that."

I return her smile with an idiotic one of my own. "Consider it done, then," I say softly pressing my lips to her temple as she nuzzles against me. "It'll give me something to look forward to while I'm destroying the relationship between my parents and me."

She hugs me comfortingly. "They'll be upset," she muses, "but at the end of the day, you're still their son and they will still love you. They'll be more upset that someone they trust spent six years abusing their son. Would you rather they kept on thinking of her as a friend when she's anything but?"

"No," I say immediately. "I've spent too long looking at Elena Lincoln like she was my savior because she kept me from prison or an early grave. I'll never know whether I could have turned myself around without her, but it doesn't matter. She isn't my savior, Anastasia. You are. You made me see the world differently, see myself differently. I had one path for my life and now I have much more than that. The possibilities of a future with you are endless and that overshadows all the other bullshit." I reach down and tilt her chin up so I can look her in the eyes. "I love you, Anastasia. I will always love you."

She gives me a dazzlingly beautiful shy smile before leaning in to kiss me. As her tongue tentatively slips through my lips, something between us crackles and I twist her around on my lap until she's straddling me in the chair. She moans against my mouth and I feel her fingers slide into my hair, twisting it. My hands slip beneath her shirt and I'm amazed at the softness of her skin. I need to feel more, feel all of her, and lose myself, to escape from the drama in my life just for a little while. Ana presses herself closer to me, grinding her hips into mine and I smile against her neck. It wasn't long ago that this woman barely knew how to flirt intentionally and now she's become wanton.

 _But only for me_ , I think to myself as I drop her shirt to the floor and reach for her bra clasp. _She's mine, only mine._

"Yours," she whispers and I realize I've spoken aloud.

My head falls back to rest on the chair as her hands slowly move down my shoulders, my chest, and find my belt buckle. Her hands are shaking as she fumbles to unbuckle it and my lips surrounding her nipple probably isn't helping so I reach down to assist. A moment later her fingers are stroking me slowly, exactly how I like. I'm tempted to let her make me come this way or perhaps her mouth, but I want more than that. I want to feel her warm, wet, and tight around me, and to see her head thrown back while she rides me.

She wants it, too; she shifts back in my lap so I can help her remove her jeans and panties. I lift her slightly by her hips and position her over my erection. We moan in unison as I slowly lower her onto me. I adjust slightly so I'm as deep in her as I can get and hold her there, allowing her to get accustomed and just taking a moment to enjoy feeling her around me. It's still not enough.

"Look at me, Ana," I breathe, resting my forehead against hers.

She does and the expression in her eyes takes all the breath from my lungs. Not long ago, that look would have had me panicking and putting as much distance between us as possible. Now there is still a bit of panic, but mostly because I know how deeply I feel about her and it matches what she feels for me. The possibility of one or both of us getting hurt is huge. If she leaves me, it will destroy me.

"I can't let you go," I whisper, staring into her eyes in an attempt to make her see into my soul, dark as it is, so she can see what she means to me. I would never allow anybody to see me this vulnerable—only her. "I won't let you go."

Her mouth drops open with a breathless gasp. "I don't want to ever go," she whimpers.

It's not long before she begins to move, using her feet on the floor to push on and off me, and before I realize it's happening, we're grasping each other, trying to get as close as possible, calling out each other's names. And nothing could ever be more perfect than this moment right now.

* * *

On Friday evening as I walk into a bar Elliot and I frequent when we go out, I try to remember that feeling I had with Ana about feeling complete for the first time in my life. I'm going to need that calming influence if I have any chance of getting through tonight without either putting myself out of my own misery or killing my brother for asking every inappropriate question that pops into his mind.

The bar is relatively quiet for a Friday night, but even with the people milling about Elliot and I will have a decent amount of privacy. I find my brother at our usual booth that is tucked towards the back of the bar already sipping a beer and hesitate before sitting across from him. Am I really about to have this conversation with him when I've worked so hard for so long to keep it quiet? But I know that if I don't I'll still have to face my parents and this might be a good way to prepare for that.

"Hey," I say quietly, removing my suit jacket and sliding into the booth. "Sorry I'm late." I glance at the two already emptied bottles and watch Elliot drain a third, wondering if I got the meeting time wrong.

He gives me a tired smile and holds up his hand to signal the bartender to bring two more beers. "You're not late," he says, placing the third empty bottle with the others. "I finished work early than I expected and decided to get a head start on the drinking. Something tells me I'm going to need it."

I sigh, sitting back in the booth as a waitress delivers two bottles of beer. Neither of us acknowledges her lingering presence as though she's hoping one of us might take her into the back room or something. A few months ago, Elliot would probably have done exactly that. It occurs to me that I haven't shown much interest in my brother's life recently and I'm actually a little curious about his interest in Katherine Kavanagh.

"So, shall we get down to it, then?" Elliot asks when the waitress finally retreats.

I glance around out of habit to look for eavesdroppers, but nobody here cares to listen in on our conversation nor do they care that I'm Christian Grey so unless we're speaking too loudly, we'll be safe. "What do you want to know, exactly?" I ask resignedly.

He hesitates, brow furrowed as he sorts through all the questions he's formulated. "Just... you and Elena," he says quietly, leaning across the table towards me. "Were you...?" He wiggles his fingers suggestively.

I huff a laugh at the gesture. "Yes, Elena and I were together for a time," I admit quietly.

"And that room?"

I certainly appreciate what little censure he's using for this conversation. I nod. "Yes, our... relationship involved... that room," I say quietly. "It was consensual, just like every other relationship I've had. And it went on for six years."

Elliot is obviously doing the math and trying to figure out the time table. "And it began... when?"

I wince before answering, "I was fifteen," and watch my brother choke on his beer.

"Fifteen!" he exclaims through sputtering coughs. "What the fuck, Christian!"

I shrug. "You wanted to know," I remind him.

He nods dazedly. "Yeah, well, I'm not sure what I was expecting to hear. I mean, I always thought something might be going on." He shakes his head slightly and gives me one of his idiotic grins that I known precedes a comment that will be highly inappropriate.

"Dude," he says conspiratorially, leaning farther over the table towards me. "Do you have any idea how many guys in high school would have given their left nut to fuck an older woman? I mean, yeah, the whole thing is a little fucked up, especially with whatever you two go up to, and Elena gives me the creeps, especially now, but she was pretty hot."

"Aren't you the one who called her the Wicked Witch of the West?" I ask dryly.

Elliot shrugs dismissively. "She could have been the female version of Hitler, but if I caught glimpses of her in a bathing suit or accidentally walked in on her half-naked when I was fourteen, it would have been jerk-off material for months."

"You're disgusting," I inform him even though I'm fighting my amusement. Leave it to my brother to find a way to break the tension.

When we get new beers, we each order a cheeseburger and basket of fries—not exactly my idea of a well-balanced meal, but it's tradition for the two of us. Besides, this place has the best burgers in the state.

"Okay," Elliot says, getting back to our conversation as he drowns his French fries in ketchup. I curl my lip at it; I never understood why he does that. It's disgusting. "So Elena's attack... Is it related to all this... other stuff?"

I take a moment to enjoy the way he squirms in discomfort, but he brought this on himself... "I suppose so," I answer with a sigh. "If she really was found the way the police are saying, it's more than likely."

"You haven't used your considerable charm and influence to dig into it yet?" he asks incredulously.

" _If_ the attack on her is related to the bullshit surrounding me, she's got a hell of a lot more to lose than I do, Elliot. I received an email not long ago containing a video that was recorded when I was probably about sixteen. It showed the two of us." I don't want to say more than that, just in case of eavesdroppers, but the look on Elliot's face suggests he gets it and doesn't want me to elaborate any further. "I'm still trying to work it all out, but the camera was planted—supposedly without her knowledge—by someone who came before me."

"Another fifteen-year-old?" Elliot spits in disgust.

I silently hold his gaze and he shakes his head looking sick, but I go on. "That person is the brother of someone I recently fired at GEH. Between the two of them, my privacy has been made public and the brother, it seems, is pissed off enough to go after Elena."

"Yeah, well, after what you just told me, I'd say it's the least of what she deserves."

The anger in my brother's tone throws me briefly. "Maybe," I say, "though I can't say I wanted anyone to get hurt."

Suddenly Elliot changes tack. "You told me that day on the boat that Elena was trying to break up you and Ana. Makes more sense now, but I thought you just said the two of you were done."

"We are," I say, and it's my turn to squirm. "We've been done for close to seven years, but Elena has always kept herself nearby. She's... I don't know, protective of me, if that's even the right word."

"Protective," Elliot mutters. "Sorry, but I don't see how that's even possible, Christian. She spent six years with you under her perfectly manicured, clawed thumb and even when you finished, she didn't let you go."

I take a deep breath, releasing it slowly to control my temper, even if I am realizing that what Elliot is saying might be true. I've spent my adult life believing I was in control of my destiny, of my world, but since meeting Anastasia, I've come to learn that isn't quite true. Looking back now, I see my relationship with Elena more clearly.

"I'm done with Elena," I say in a low voice, fiddling with the label of my bottle. "Actually done. The salons... I gifted them to her. After the shit she's tried to pull, breaking Ana and me up, I made a choice between the two of them; Ana is more important to me than anything and I won't let anybody come between us." I hesitate briefly. "Ana did leave me once, Elliot, and it was because I was trying to shield her from Elena's bullshit. She was gone a week before I managed to get her back and I was only able to do that because her asshole stalker was fucking with her again. That isn't something I ever want to experience again."

Elliot nods slowly, frowning thoughtfully. "So Ana knows... everything? About you and Elena, about the other stuff?"

I nod. "I've told her everything even when I thought I really shouldn't. I want her to trust me. I need her to love me, Elliot."

His eyes widen at both my words and tone. "She does," he whispers confidently. "Anybody who sees you together can see how you feel about each other." He shifts uncomfortably again and I know why: this is undoubtedly the most candid conversation we have ever had and we're both struggling with it. He lets out a huge breath. "Why didn't you tell us about Elena the night you told us about the BDSM stuff?"

I raise an eyebrow at him. "After everything I told you that night, how the hell would you have reacted if I had? Mom could barely look at me that night. Dad went straight for the liquor cabinet. And you can't tell me you hadn't already heard enough."

Elliot tilts his head from side to side as he considers my words. "Probably true," he says with a brief crooked grin. "And that day on the boat? For fuck's sake, Christian, you let us all go on believing she was a family friend. That's fucked up."

"I know," I admit softly. "And I'm sorry for that. I just didn't want to ruin the day because I had to bail Mom out of jail for homicide." Elliot snorts a laugh. "I'm telling them tomorrow. Ana is going to spend the day with Kate and I'm heading to Mom and Dad's for lunch."

"Want some backup?" he offers.

"Thanks, but I should do this on my own. I wouldn't mind you getting Mia out of the house, though. I don't want her to know about this unless I really need to tell her."

"Done," Elliot says. "But if you change your mind..."

I nod. "Yeah..." I say.

Though I see dozens more questions forming in Elliot's mind, we change the subject while we finish our food. He grumbles about the fact that I'm using my skybox to see the Mariners game on Sunday, but agrees that using it to get on my girlfriend's father's good side is brilliant. After calling Taylor for a ride since I've had a bit more to drink than I'd intended and won't drive this way, I pay the tab for the beers and burgers, all the while ignoring Elliot's insistences that I let him chip in and we head out of the bar, breathing in some much needed fresh air.

"So," I say, spotting Taylor pulling up to the bar. Sawyer jumps out to collect the keys for the R8 to take it home. "We're good?"

I get nervous when Elliot actually takes time to consider the question. "Yeah, we're good," he says finally. "Of course we are. And I'll keep all this to myself."

I sigh in relief. "Good. Thank you." I think he knows I'm thanking him more for not washing his hands on me rather than his promise to keep quiet.

"Anytime," he says, gesturing for the cab that pulls up near the SUV. "My ride. Tell Ana hi for me."

I roll my eyes at the fact that he prefers taking a cab to allowing me to get him home, but I think at this point he needs to get all this thoughts together following our conversation. All things considered, tonight went surprisingly well. I can only hope speaking with my parents goes even fractionally like it did with Elliot, but I have a feeling it will end with one or both of my parents not speaking to me again and as a result, my anxiety levels have skyrocketed. Right now, more than anything, I need Ana.

* * *

 **A/N:** So I think that will start to take care of some of the demands I've been getting. The story going to start wrapping up in the next seven or so chapters, I think. Thanks again for the reviews and PMs; even if I don't reply to all of them, I do read them and take your opinions to heart. Take care!


	29. Chapter 29

I suddenly wish I had taken Elliot up on his offer to provide back-up for the coming conversation with my parents. I got here forty-five minutes ago and my brother had already come by to take Mia out for the day. He sent me a text message about half an hour ago complaining that he'd let our sister talk him into taking her shopping. Poor bastard; he'll be there until she drains his bank account because neither of us is particularly skilled at telling her no.

Now I'm sitting on the back deck of my parents' home with the remnants of our lunch on the table while I work up the nerve to talk to them about Elena.

"How's Ana, Christian?" Mom asks, unable to hide how eager she's been to ask that very question since I walked in the door.

Carrick and I exchange brief smirks. "Ana's great," I say honestly. Hesitating before I share the only bit of good news I've had in weeks. "She's moving in with me this week, actually."

"So soon?" Carrick asks, frowning. "You've not known her long. Are you sure that's wise, son?"

"Absolutely," I say firmly. When they look a little skeptical, despite the obvious happiness in my mother's eyes, I go on. "She's it for me. And I'm fairly confident she feels the same about me." I frown as I once again doubt that she could honestly love me as much as she says despite all my bullshit. I clear my throat and look at my parents' expectant expressions. "Her dad is in town this weekend. I'm meeting him tomorrow; Ana and I are taking him to the Mariners game."

Dad is looking at me as though seeing me in a whole new light and Mom's eyes are misty. I'm tempted to once again put off the Elena discussion because they look so pleased and I want them to keep looking at me like that, but it must be done. I simply need to find an opening. One presents itself when Dad brings out a couple beers for us and one of his infamous alcoholic concoctions for Mom.

"I assume you've heard about Elena?" Grace asks, wincing at the burn of her Long Island iced tea. "I couldn't believe it, attacked like that in her own home."

Carrick scoffs. "From what I understand, she brought it on herself," he says with a surprising amount of disdain. "I spoke with Linc last night and he inferred that Elena may have been having an affair with a teenage boy."

My eyes widen at this news and for a brief moment, I wonder if they already know about Elena and me.

"You ought to know better than to believe gossip, Carrick," Grace chides. "Especially coming for Linc. Or have you forgotten how he put her into the hospital seven years ago?"

"No, I haven't forgotten," Carrick replies patiently. "But even back then there were rumors that she'd found herself an underage boy toy." His tone is one of disgust and I quickly drain my beer then contemplate stealing what's left of my mother's drink. Suddenly I need the liquid fortification.

Grace shakes her head. "And if there were any truth to that rumor, or this one, don't you think it would be the talk of the town? The women in this community don't have much else to do than gossip and stick their noses where they don't belong. Besides, Elena isn't capable of that sort of behavior."

I clear my throat before I realize I'm doing it and sit up straighter in my chair as my parents' attention turns towards me. "That wasn't gossip," I say quietly, staring at a spot on the table between us. "Elena has had affairs with much younger men."

Suddenly the tension skyrockets while the temperature drops to near freezing. Or maybe that's just me.

"What are you talking about, Christian?" Carrick asks reluctantly. "How would you know that?"

I take a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "I was the reason Linc put Elena in the hospital the last time," I admit.

Though I'm not looking at either of my parents, I can feel their eyes boring into mine as they undoubtedly wonder whether they heard me correctly and if they even want to ask for elaboration.

"Christian?" Grace whispers anxiously after several moments of shocked silence. "What are you saying?"

 _Now or never, Grey_... "Elena and I... we had an affair for six years before Linc found out about us."

Grace looks as though she's going to be sick while Carrick seems to be waiting for the punch line that simply doesn't exist. "You and Elena?" Grace whispers, horrified. "For _six_ years?"

I nod, unable to look either of them in the eye.

"Six years," Carrick whispers, eyes wide as he stares at me in disbelief. I can hear his mind whirling as he does the math, counting back from Elena's last hospitalization. "But that means you were only fifteen or sixteen."

"No," Grace begs in a whisper, shaking her head slowly as she continues to stare at me.

I shake my head. "Fifteen," I confirm.

Grace lets out a noise that's a mixture of pain and horror. "Christian," she begs, grasping my hand and holding it tightly.

"How?" Carrick croaks, on the verge of anger or tears, I'm not sure which. "How did it start?"

And so I tell them everything about that period of my life. Well, mostly everything. I don't think they need to hear all the gory details. I tell them that it all began shortly after my expulsion from yet another school and how I was doing work for the Lincolns since everyone thought physical labor would be better than letting me just stay in my room and read for however long I was being punished.

"Elena turned me around," I say in a low voice. "She stopped the drinking and the fighting, and just my general asshole behavior." I don't know why I'm trying to justify this. Actually, I do; I see the expressions on their faces and know they're blaming themselves when it really wasn't their fault. "She got me more focused on school and kept me on track. She helped me start my company."

"Don't you dare make excuses for her," my mother hisses, anger and disgust radiating off of her.

"I don't mean to," I say honestly. "But it's true. I could be in prison now, or worse, if not for her."

"You don't know that!" Carrick snaps. "You could have grown out of that phase. You should have come to us, son." He looks as though he's in physical pain and I hate myself for putting him through this.

"And said, what, exactly?" I ask with a bit more bite than I intend. "I was a fifteen-year-old bag of hormones and anger. While every other boy my age could give into their hormones, I couldn't because I was paralyzed with the fear of being touched. Elena gave me an outlet, something to channel all of those feelings into something better than fighting and drinking."

"And you think that justifies her having an affair with a teenage boy?" Grace asks incredulously. "You were a _child_ , Christian! My child, and somebody I cared about and trusted took advantage of you!"

"Ignoring the age factor for the moment," Carrick says quietly, obviously needing the temporary break. "You know right from wrong, Christian. Your mother and I were at least able to teach you that much. Elena was married and you didn't have a problem with that?"

I give him a look. "You were fifteen once, Dad," I say evenly. "Are you telling me that if an older woman came onto you, you'd have turned her down whether she was married or not?"

He sighs, but I think he gets the point. Grace is frowning at us with disapproval but doesn't comment.

"All those things the media was saying about you, what you admitted to us, how Elena was found..." Grace says quietly, . "She brought you into that, didn't she?"

I look at my mother, uncertain what to say.

"Shit," Carrick mutters, his expression hardening. "And we can't even bring her up on charges because the statute of limitations would have run out at least three years ago. Well, I'd say she's getting the least of what she deserves."

"Is it over between you two?" Grace asks, still looking ill. "Or is it still happening?"

"It's over," I assure her. "It's been over for years. Since then we've remained friends and business partners."

"Business partners," Carrick scoffs skeptically. "I always did wonder why you took such an interest in those damned salons. Does Anastasia know about Elena?"

I nod. "She's known for a while," I answer quietly.

"And she's okay with you having Elena in your life?" Grace asks incredulously.

"Well," I say, shifting in my chair. "No, not exactly." My parents are at a loss for words and I decide to keep talking. "I know you both see it as Elena taking advantage of me, abusing me, but I didn't see it that way at the time. Even afterwards I convinced myself that Elena helped me, saved me from myself."

Carrick tilts his head to the side slightly, studying me. "You said at the time," he observes softly, almost hopefully. "You don't feel that way anymore?"

I take a moment to consider my answer, knowing it's the absolute truth. "No," I say quietly. "Not anymore."

"What changed?" Grace whispers.

I smile slightly. "I met Ana," I say simply. "She's made me see things in a different light."

"Were you in love with Elena?" Grace asks tensely as though she doesn't actually want the answer but couldn't help asking the question.

I shrug, feeling surprisingly relaxed. "In my own way, I suppose," I answer carefully. "But what did I know about love and relationships back then? If it was love and I'm definitely not saying it was, it's nothing compared to how I feel about Anastasia."

"We love you, Christian," Grace says bemused. "From the moment we laid eyes on you. How can you say you never knew about love when you had us?" I take a breath to speak, but she shakes her head to keep me quiet. "You never believed you deserved love, did you?"

Did I really think I was relaxing? More than anything right now, I want to run away from this conversation. I've inwardly insisted for years that my family doesn't really know me and if they ever did, if they ever saw the monster within me, I would lose them, and that has never been something worth risking. But here my mother sits proving to me without a shadow of a doubt that she _does_ know me and yet she hasn't run away screaming, and my father hasn't banished me from the family. I'm their son and they won't wash their hands of me because they love me. I'm seeing it all clearly now and feel as though the weight of the world has been lifted from my shoulders.

"I'm sorry," I tell my parents, uncertain what else there is to say. "For everything, I'm sorry."

Grace takes my hand, squeezing it almost to the point of pain. "You have nothing to apologize for," she insists firmly. "I only wish we'd known before now when we could have done something about it."

"It's Elena who should be sorry," Carrick chips in coldly and I suddenly see where I've gotten some of my traits. "In a community like ours, all it takes are a few whispered words in the right ears and she'll never recover from that."

I almost want to laugh, though whether in relief, shock, or the vindictive glints in my parents' eyes, I'm not certain.

"This attack on her," Grace says suddenly. "You had nothing to do with that."

It's not a question and I know she doesn't actually believe I did have something to do with it, but I answer anyway. "No," I say firmly, shaking my head for emphasis. "Definitely not. But I suspect I'm part of the reason she was attacked. I rather recently learned I wasn't the first boy to have her claws dug into me. We believe the same person and his brother, whom I fired a while back, are also responsible for the breach in my private life."

"Well, if she wasn't lying in a hospital bed unconscious already, she would be once I finished with her," my mother says darkly.

Again, I don't know how to respond, so I don't.

"Son, is there anything else you need to tell us?" Carrick asks after several minutes of each of us being lost in our thoughts. "If there is, do it now because I don't know how many more of these conversations we can handle."

I smile faintly. "That's it," I answer. "No more skeletons in my closet."

My parents let out identical sighs of relief in perfect unison. "Good," Grace says resolutely, releasing my hand as she stands. "I think I need a stronger drink." With that, she picks up her glass and disappears into the house.

I turn to find my dad looking at me thoughtfully, which is a hell of a lot better than the disdain I expected to see. "What?" I ask uneasily.

"Ana really has had some effect on you, hasn't she?" he asks quietly. "I don't think you've ever opened up to us like this before."

I nod. "She's had a hell of an effect on me," I agree. "I never thought I'd have someone like her or even that I wanted it in my life."

Carrick nods back. "Well, you'd better do everything in your power to hold onto her, then. I like this new you."

I smirk. "Yeah, me, too." It's the first time I've admitted it out loud and it feels great to have it out there in the world.

When my mother returns to the table, she's carrying a wine bottle and three glasses. Neither my father nor I do more than raise an eyebrow as she fills each glass and drains hers before we can even take a sip. After a few silent minutes, she nods decisively. "So, tell us about Ana's father..."

* * *

A few hours later I return home to find Ana out on the balcony asleep in a chair with an open book resting on her chest. It's so reminiscent of the day I rushed home from work after she'd overheard Elena and me talking that I have to physically fight the urge to panic which I do my pressing my fingernails into my palms nearly to the point of pain.

It only takes a minute to remind myself how different the two scenarios are. Back then, we were still uncertain about one another and whether we'd actually work out. Now, we've admitted that we love each other and I just told my parents she is moving in with me. She is much more mine today than that day and assuming Ray Steele doesn't kill me on the spot tomorrow, she'll be mine forever. With that thought firmly in mind, I sit in the chair beside her and gently remove the book from her chest and place it on the table between us, hoping to let her sleep a little longer since it's my fault she didn't sleep much last night. Just as I'm considering a repeat performance, Ana shifts and I know she's waking up.

I watch eagerly for that little smile she always gives me first thing in the morning. She does when her eyes open and I return my own idiotic grin.

"You survived, I see," she says, curling up in her chair and turning to face me.

I snort a laugh. "Barely," I grumble mostly playfully. "Though once we had a few drinks everything seemed to smooth out."

She smiles, but continues to watch me expectantly.

I sigh, reaching across for her hand and squeeze her fingers. "It went much better than I thought it would," I admit, running my thumb across her knuckles. I'm not quite sure which of us is enjoying the sensation more. "I always believed that if my family found out about what I did and especially about my relationship with Elena that would be the end. But I don't think that's the case."

She frowns, slipping off her chair and onto my lap. I immediately tuck her in my arms, holding her fast. "I told you it wouldn't be," she reminds me.

"Yes, you did," I whisper in her hair. "I'm glad you were right."

"How do you feel now?"

I rest my chin on her head and think before answering. "Better." I answer. "I've spent so long worried about them finding out and I never realized _how_ worried I was about it. I'm sure there will still be issues once they've had time to really think and reflect on everything, and my mother isn't particularly happy."

"Can you blame her?" she asks bluntly.

My lips twitch. "No, I suppose not," I whisper. "I'm finally seeing the truth in the people in my life. I've been so terrified of letting anybody see me for what I am that I've just isolated myself from them. I wanted to protect them from me. My parents, my brother and sister... you. I didn't want to taint their goodness with what I am."

Ana turns in my lap and takes my face in her hands. "What you are, Christian Grey, is a wonderful, kind, brilliant man who was dealt a shit hand and turned it all around. And I'm not only referring to your company; I've seen how big your heart is, how you give as much as you get.

"And what you did today, telling your parents something you know would upset them, something that could have broken them... It took balls, Christian. But you did it and I'm proud of you."

At first I feel amusement at her choice of words, but once they sink in and I see the utter sincerity, all I feel is love for her. "You're proud of me?" I whisper uncertainly.

She nods, biting her lip.

I feel my shy smile, the one reserved solely for her, growing on my lips as I release hers from her teeth. "You're pretty damned remarkable yourself, Miss Steele," I murmur, pulling her closer until we're kissing leisurely. It's somehow different than any other kiss we've shared. I realize suddenly it's because despite our words and actions, I've been kissing her as though there would never be a next time. Now I know, and feel, that we have the rest of our lives.

As Ana pulls away from my mouth to catch her breath, an idea occurs to me, one that's nearly as frightening as admitting that I love her had been. Is she even ready for that? Am I? We've talked about the future in general terms, but she's so young. Her career is only beginning. I don't even know whether she wants to continue working at GEH or if she really was more cut out for the publishing world. Of course, whatever she decides, I'll support her. I want to make her happy, to make her dreams come true.

"What's the matter?" she whispers concernedly at my sudden change of mood.

I smile, gently pushing her hair back from her face. "Nothing, baby," I answer. "Everything is perfect."

And that's about all the talking I can stand right now. I need her, I need to be as close to her as humanly possible, and we have the whole night to figure out just how close that is.

* * *

Today my goal is to show Ray Steele that I'm the man for his daughter. At first I thought my skybox seats and Seattle Mariners season tickets would be a good start followed by a fancy dinner where I could wow him with all the things I could provide for Anastasia would be more than enough. But then I reminded myself that this isn't a business deal and the man I need to impress lives a much simpler life than I do. So apart from the baseball tickets, the rest of my plan for the day has been completely overhauled. After the game, we'll take Ray out for a decent steak dinner where he can order a brand of beer he actually recognizes and I'll just have to use all of my natural charm to get him to accept me.

I considered telling the security team to take the day off, but it's too much of a risk after Elena was attacked. Taylor and Sawyer have been instructed to keep their distance and out of sight unless they detect we're in danger. Around lunchtime, Ana and I take my least flashy car to meet Ray outside Safeco Field. Ana drags me through the crowd until she spots her dad and drops my hand to hug him hello. I stand back just enough to give them a moment, but Ray finds me almost immediately.

I used to wonder how it was possible that Ana had never dated before meeting me, but I get it now; any teenage boy receiving a glare that makes him feel as though all his deepest, darkest thoughts are on display would have him standing in a puddle of his own making. I'm no teenage boy, but the longer I'm scrutinized, the more nervous I'm becoming.

Maybe Ana senses that because she turns back towards me, pulling her father along with her.

"Daddy, this is my boyfriend, Christian Grey," she announces shyly. "Christian, my dad, Raymond Steele."

I grin as much at her calling me her boyfriend as I do at trying to seem open and friendly. "Mr. Steele, it's a pleasure to finally meet you," I say, shaking his hand firmly.

"Mr. Grey, likewise," he says evenly. Ana is looking between us uncertainly. "Annie's told me quite a bit about you."

I glance at Ana as she bites her lip in a nervous gesture. "All good, I hope," I murmur. "And please, call me Christian."

Ray sizes me up a bit more before Ana nervously clears her throat. "Shall we?" she says brightly.

I smile down at her, trying to reassure her that this day will go well, even if I'm still uncertain about it myself. "Of course," I say, offering her my arm which she takes gladly and immediately, and guide her and Ray to the gates where we're led to the skybox by an overeager young man who trips over himself half a dozen times because he keeps staring at Ana's legs. I glance over and find that Ray has a scowl of disapproval on his face that probably matches mine perfectly. Not that I can blame him for staring; my girl is dressed in a t-shirt that is just this side of appropriate that shows off her curves perfectly and a pair of jean shorts that nearly had me ripping off her clothes before leaving the apartment. Still, I'm relieved we won't be surrounded by drunken idiots trying to make passes at her all throughout the game. Somehow I don't think bailing me out of jail will win me any favors with Ray Steele.

"Hell of a view up here," Ray comments as he stares out the large glass window in the box. "Not sure I've ever seen this much of the field all at once."

I smirk to myself. Maybe impressing Ana's dad won't be the challenge I believed it to be. Ana rolls her eyes, smiling as she sits in one of the leather chairs in front of the window. Televisions mounted on the walls show the pre-game warm-up and interviews with the players. Rather than waiting in the ridiculously long lines at the concession stands, I made sure the skybox was full of drinks, including Ray's brand of beer, and with one call we can have food delivered.

"Not a bad deal," Ray comments, impressed. Ana throws me a smile and a wink as she sits between Ray and me. I return her smile and instinctively put an arm around her shoulders, which immediately calms my nerves.

While we wait for the game to begin, Ray asks me questions about myself and my family, and I feel as though I'm in some sort of job interview, not that I've had any experience with such things. Nevertheless, I quickly realize Anastasia is the prize for succeeding in this interview and I intend to win. Over the traditional baseball lunch of foot-long hotdogs and nachos, the topic of conversation transitions to fishing and it seems Ray and I have found another common interest, the first, of course, being the beautiful girl sitting between us who excuses herself at the beginning of the second inning for a bathroom break. A lifelong habit of manners has me on my feet and helping her to hers, only sitting again when she disappears from view. I then realize Ray and I are alone for the first time and he's watching me thoughtfully.

"Not many young have your manners these days," he observes.

I smile. "My parents ensured proper manners were ingrained in us from an early age," I inform him. "My brother had more trouble with them than I did which often led to our mother giving him her patented glare that could bring the most hardened criminal to his knees." Though really, the reason I covet my manners is because they always helped to disguise the monster within me and keep those around me from seeing it, but I don't think Ray needs to hear that.

He chuckles somewhat reluctantly and with Ana gone, I think I know he's not going to waste the time discussing my upbringing. "You know, I wasn't too sure about you when Annie first told me she was seeing someone. To be honest, and no offense meant, I had no idea who you were."

 _Somehow that doesn't surprise me,_ I think, smirking. "No offense taken," I reply honestly.

Ray goes on. "But once I learned your name, I started to see it everywhere, and none of it was exactly flattering."

I shift uncomfortably in my seat. Though I expected this to come up, I still don't quite know what to say.

"I was concerned Annie was in over her head with something she never should have gotten involved with. Of course, I questioned her about it, but she insisted over and over you were nothing like what people were saying. And I've learned to trust that girl's judgment for the most part even though I know she can be naïve about a lot of things. But she also told me everything you did when that sorry piece of trash Benjamin Reese came after her again.

"Now, I don't often pass judgment on people before meeting them and I tried keeping an open mind about you, but I can't help being concerned about my daughter's well-being."

I sense a hint of threat in his tone and I can't even say I blame him. "Well, perhaps I can give you some peace of mind," I say evenly. "I'll be the first to admit that Anastasia and I have only known each other a short while, but in that limited time, she has changed my life significantly and very much for the better. I care for her a great deal—I love her, Mr. Steele—and that isn't something I've had much experience with. All I want is her happiness and her safety.

"I'll admit there is a hell of a learning curve for me when it comes to her and I've made a lot of mistakes, but she has been at my side during one of the most trying times of my life and I can't even begin to explain what her support has meant to me. I won't insult your intelligence by saying the things you've heard about me aren't true—they are. But all of that is now in the past. Ana has in no way been a part of that life." I don't see reason to tell him about Ana's newfound interest of occasionally being restrained during sex. That's nobody's business but Ana's and mine, and I'd rather not be thrown out of my skybox via the window overlooking the field. "I will never harm her. The thought of seeing her hurt in any way makes me sick.

"You mentioned Reese. It was partly my fault he was able to get close enough to her to nearly strangle her to death. My security team made a mistake when my building was being evacuated. Since then, I've been rather overprotective of her. I'll do anything to prevent something like that ever happening again."

Again, Ray studies me as he considers everything I've said. The longer the silence stretches, though, the more uneasy I feel. Is he about to tell me he doesn't want his daughter with a man like me? Ana's opinion is the only one that truly matters to me, but I have a feeling her father's opinion will go a long way in shaping our future together.

Finally he nods in what I think is acceptance. "All right, then," he says, turning back to the game. "Just know that if you do hurt her, it's not going to be me coming after you; it'll be her. And I made it a point to teach that girl how to defend herself."

I laugh in both amusement of his words and relief that I've got the green light to build a future with his daughter. "I'll keep that in mind, Mr. Steele."

He frowns briefly. "And enough of the 'Mr. Steele' bull, Christian; it's Ray."

When Ana finally returns, Ray and I are much more at ease with one another than we were before and in deep discussion about the Mariners' chances of making it to the playoffs this season. After seeing how badly this game is going for our team, we sadly conclude this probably isn't our year. By the end, I'm certain Elliot is relieved to not have wasted his afternoon watching the team struggle to keep their heads above water and I'm grateful he's not here; by now he'd be drunk and sulking.

Outside the stadium, surrounded by disappointed fans, Taylor is waiting for us with the SUV. Since we've been drinking, I thought it wise that somebody else drives.

Over steak dinners and more beer to drown our baseball sorrows, Ray regales us with stories of Ana as a child and her clumsiness. The girl herself is sulking beside me and trying to sink down below the table with embarrassment, but I consider this payback for her listening to whatever Mia was telling her that day on _The Grace_. Besides it's giving me more insight in the girl I want to know everything about.

As we wait for the dessert I watched Ana drooling over as a waiter carried it past our table, my phone rings for what is, shockingly, the first time today and I'm forced to remove the arm that has been resting around Ana's shoulders for most of the day to look at the caller ID, cursing to myself when I see Ros's number.

"I apologize," I say, sliding out of my seat, "but I have to take this."

Stepping outside for privacy, I take the call and listen with growing annoyance and dread as Ros tells me I'm needed in New York by tomorrow morning. Typically, I wouldn't think twice about flying out to solve whatever problem has presented itself, but with everything going on here—particularly after Elena's attack—the last thing I want is to leave Ana on her own. Unfortunately I know I won't convince her to come along with me and she'll only roll her eyes and protest if she finds out I'm ignoring work because of her. At the end of the argument that will surely erupt, she'll be irritated and I'll leave for New York pissed off. It's simply not worth the fallout so I tell Ros I'll be on the jet later tonight.

"Everything all right?" Ana asks concernedly when I return to the table.

I sigh. "Yes, but unfortunately I need to fly out to New York tonight. I'm not sure how long I'll be gone."

"Oh," Ana says, disappointed. I'm tempted to lean over and kiss the slight pout on her lips, but I'm acutely aware that her stepfather is watching our interactions closely even if he's pretending to study a piece of the large triple chocolate cake we decided to split.

"But that isn't until later. Right now my only concern is this cake."

* * *

A few hours later, I'm gathering my things for New York while Ana watches from her spot on our bed. Every time I emerge from the closet and see her wearing only a tank top and a pair of my underwear, I'm tempted to say fuck New York so I can bury myself in her for as long as she'll allow me. The look in her eyes as I move around the room with only a towel around my waist following our shower suggests she wouldn't protest in the slightest.

"Are you sure you won't come with me?" I murmur against her lips after crawling up the bed and urging her to lie back. My lips find her neck then her ear, and finally that little spot behind her ear that never fails to make her melt. When her hands slip beneath my towel and squeeze my ass, I moan and press my hips into hers, making her groan.

"I'm sure," she whispers, sounding anything but.

I grin against her skin and glance at the alarm clock, estimating that we have just enough time to indulge in one another one more time before I need to leave, so I make quick work of undressing her while she practically rips of my towel. I sigh in utter contentment as I sink into her and we quickly lose ourselves again, and I realize nothing in the world matters to me beyond this woman. My business empire could shatter at my feet; I could lose every cent to my name; I could be homeless and destitute, and it wouldn't matter so long as I have Ana at my side.


	30. Chapter 30

Three days following the baseball game, the good feelings I had are beginning to fade away into frustration at the mess I discovered in New York. It seems the people I've left in charge of shipment management have decided to ignore GEH guidelines and that deadlines assigned to them to keep everything flowing could be put off for their personal benefit. So far I've fired a dozen people and brought in new ones from other factions of the company to get everything back on track. The fines for late shipment fees have accumulated into the six-figure range and I can't recall the last time I was this fucking angry about a work-related issue.

The only highlight in my days comes when I'm back in my New York City apartment and on the phone with Ana. She's been quite busy this week herself not only with work but with packing her things in the apartment she shares with Kate to move it to Escala. So when I get home, it will no longer only be my home, but mine and Anastasia's. Elliot has been helping with the move and I've lost track of how many texts he's sent asking when we're scheduling the wedding. I should be annoyed by his digging into my personal life, but his prying doesn't bother me nearly as much as it would have a few weeks ago.

On top of that, I spoke to my mother earlier today—the first time I've heard from her since our conversation on Saturday—and she all but ordered me over to the house for dinner this weekend and outright demanded that Ana come along with me. I take it as a good sign; she hasn't banished me from the family yet.

As far as Elena goes, I've received word that she finally woke following being beaten into unconsciousness, but when she's been questioned by the police regarding the identity of her attacker, she wouldn't say a word. She's been calling, texting, and emailing me for the last day and a half begging to speak to me, but I've ignored her every time. After the last weekend, the thought of speaking to her feels like a betrayal to my parents and Anastasia. She says she has important information for me, urgent information and she won't give it to anybody but me and only in person. There is a chance that she has learned something I might need to know regarding my current situation. I know without a doubt, though, that seeing her would be a huge mistake as she'll only use the opportunity to pull me back into her web again and that is somewhere I have no desire to be ever again.

The longer I've had to think about it, the more I'm seeing things from other viewpoints, namely my parents' and Ana's. I spent years defending my relationship to Elena, mostly to myself, most recently to my family and Ana, and I'm finding it difficult to do so anymore. I may have been blind to how Elena kept me under her thumb long after I ceased being her submissive, but no more. In some ways, yes, she has helped me, notably by loaning me $100,000 to start my company after I dropped out of Harvard, but everything else I've convinced myself to be beneficial to me has been a lie and now I wonder how it is that I'm only just now seeing Elena for what she really is. Anything that didn't fit in with her ideals of what was right for me had no place in my life—John Flynn, the only therapist I've ever had who did anything to actually help me, was categorized as a quack who was doing me more harm than good; Anastasia, the only woman I will ever love, who has done so much more good in my life than I could have ever imagined for myself, makes me weak and she will destroy everything I hold dear if I don't wipe my hands of her soon. Even my family... Elena often told me growing up that, wise as they are, my parents didn't necessarily know what was best for me. She never outwardly tried to turn me against them, but I don't think she would have hesitated to do so if she saw reason for it.

Now, with Elena catalogued into my past along with my days of contracting submissives, I'm actually thinking ahead to the future and the life I could have with Anastasia. The possibilities are endless and they give me hope that I might achieve real, lasting happiness for the first time in my life. In the middle of the night when I can't sleep in the quiet stillness of my New York City apartment, I've found myself bypassing the solace provided by the piano and instead scouting real estate websites for new homes—real homes that Ana and I can build together and when that becomes overwhelming, I begin problem solving the other hurdle I have to jump over. I know without a doubt that I want Ana by my side until I take my last dying breath and I want our connection to be permanent and unbreakable. A way to guarantee that is to marry her.

I often ask myself whether I really am insane for considering marrying a woman I've only known a matter of months, but much like when Ana brought up the same argument when I asked her to move in with me, I say fuck time. Why should we let something so inconsequential as time dictate our lives? For fuck's sake, I've been ranked amongst the youngest self-made billionaires in the world. People told me when I was twenty that I would drown in the business world within a year without a college degree, my father included, but my company's success speaks for itself, proving them all wrong.

I know my mind. I know what I want, what I'll always want, and that's Anastasia Steele.

Besides, I don't even know she'll say yes, so I could be getting my hopes up for nothing more than heartbreak. For all I know, I've got her so overwhelmed right now that one day she'll wake up, her reason and rationale will have returned, and she'll run for her life. I smirk a little to myself, however uneasy that thought makes me; maybe she is overwhelmed, but I know she would never do anything she didn't want to do and that includes being with me.

My thoughts are interrupted by a sharp knock on my bedroom door. I glare at the clock, finding it's nearly one in the morning. Sighing, and wondering who I'll be firing next even if I was already awake, I haul myself out of my desk chair and over to the door. The moment I see the expression on Taylor's face, however, I'm on high alert.

"What's wrong?" I ask without preamble, stepping back to allow Taylor into the room.

I'm not certain how to identify his expression , but it's something like anger mixed with fearful anxiety, and it's not one I've ever seen on Taylor's face in the five years he's worked for me. "Mr. Grey, I just received a call from Sawyer," he begins uncertainly as though he's still trying to figure it out for himself. "Something has happened at Escala. All I know at this time is that Miss Steele is being held captive inside your apartment and Sawyer is unable to gain access."

As his words sink in, I have the sudden need to sit. Thankfully I'm at the edge of my bed and manage not to crumple to the ground in front of my head of security. All I can think of is my Ana alone in the apartment with God knows who, terrified.

Taylor continues to speak and takes it upon himself to begin packing my things for me. Not ten minutes have passed since he knocked on my door and we're in the car on the way to the airport where the jet is waiting. Once we're settled, Taylor wraps up a phone call he's been on for the last several minutes and we take off, my mind finally catches up with the situation.

"Where the fuck was Sawyer?" I demand. "Why wasn't he in the apartment with her?"

Taylor straightens up in his seat and looks vaguely relieved that I'm asking questions and demanding answers finally. "Miss Steele ordered Chinese takeout as a late dinner while she was working and unpacking her things. Since visitors are restricted from the penthouse save the approved list, Sawyer went down to the lobby to accept the delivery. In those few minutes somebody gained access to the penthouse and hacked into Escala's security programs, which was no easy feat. The elevators throughout the building, including the one to the penthouse, are locked and security cameras both in the apartment and the rest of the building have been disabled. We have no way of contacting Miss Steele."

"So we don't know who is in there with her or if she's hurt, or..." I can't even finish the statement. "How the _fuck_ did this happen? You told me every way into the apartment has been locked down. I just paid to upgrade the elevator to my apartment to require a key as well as a fucking pass code. What was the fucking point if I still can't keep Anastasia safe?"

For the first time in my memory, Taylor is at a loss for words. And I'm stuck on a fucking airplane hours and hundreds of miles away from home while the woman I love is hostage to some piece of shit smart enough to outwit every measure I've put into place to keep her safe.

"Benjamin Reese," I say suddenly. We're half an hour from landing in Seattle and all Taylor and I have accomplished is increasing my fear.

Taylor shakes his head. So far, I've fired him, Sawyer, Welch, and Barney about half a dozen times each over this mess, but I expect at this point Taylor isn't taking me entirely seriously. "He was the first suspect that popped into my mind as well. When we leveled off in the air, I managed to get in touch with a buddy of mine with Seattle PD. He informed me Reese is still in police custody and hasn't been in touch with anybody."

That still doesn't do a fucking thing to alleviate my concerns. "Elena Lincoln may not be talking to the police, but I'd bet just about anything she was attacked by Travis Kingston," Taylor goes on.

I nod in agreement to his theory. "That's the conclusion I've reached as well," I say grimly. "And if he could do what he did to Elena, God only knows what he could do to Ana."

Brandon Riley's voice pops into my head, repeating what he said the day I called him into GEH about how I would feel knowing somebody I love was being treated as a submissive. At least there are guidelines in that sort of arrangement, but I'm not naïve; I know not all Dominants follow hard and soft limits or listen to safe words. I think about Ana in the playroom with someone who isn't me, someone determined to inflict pain upon her simply to get back at me for something that really wasn't my fault.

When we touchdown in Seattle, I'm struggling to swallow down the rising panic and bile. On the tarmac, we're greeted by a police detective. Taylor introduces us and I realize this is his contact with the police department. I don't bother retaining his name at the moment; I need to get to Ana and that is my only concern right now.

On the drive to Escala, with the detective's lights and sirens going, we're brought up to speed on the situation. The entirety of the security system at Escala has been hijacked, and every attempt at regaining control so far has failed. We're dealing with somebody who has outsmarted even the best computer experts Seattle has to offer. Everything from the elevators to the emergency staircases have been secured by the bastard in my apartment and nobody can come up with a way to safely get in there without compromising Ana's safety. The biggest concern is not knowing whether this person is armed, but we're assuming he is.

"Any information you can provide will do a world of good, Mr. Grey," the detective says, glancing at me through the rearview mirror. "Do you have any idea who this person might be?"

"We have theories," Taylor says carefully, glancing at me over his shoulder. I nod minutely, granting him permission to discuss what we've so far deduced. "We believe it may be Travis Kingston. He's the half-brother of a former employee of Mr. Grey's who was terminated, Brandon Riley. The two of them have spent weeks making half-assed attempts to blackmail Mr. Grey."

"So you know this Kingston?" the detective asks me.

"Not directly," I answer, feeling a migraine coming on and wondering how much I should actually share with a complete stranger, despite the fact that Taylor seems to trust him absolutely. My mind drifts to Ana as it so often does during a normal day and I know I have to do everything within my power to bring her to safety, even if it means compromising what little remains of my private life. "He and I both had a relationship with the same woman, years ago. She left him for me and it seems he's been harboring resentment for years."

"Who's the woman?" the detective asks.

I sigh. "Elena Lincoln," I answer reluctantly. A lifetime of secrecy is hard to overcome. "I further suspect he attacked her in her home last week. She's currently in the hospital."

"Elena Lincoln?" he asks, surprised. "Oh, Christ."

"What?" I ask reluctantly. I swear to God, if he tells me he also had a relationship with her, I'm going to fucking scream.

It's the detective's turn to sigh. "Just before Jason called, I was over at Northwest Hospital where a patient died. We're treating it as a homicide."

Taylor and I exchange startled glances. "Who was the patient?" Taylor asks quietly, though I think we both already know the answer.

"Elena Lincoln," the detective replies. "Someone got into her room dressed as an orderly and overrode the controls on her morphine drip. She overdosed."

I sit back in my seat, uncertain what to do with this information.

The detective goes on. "With what you've told me and what's happening in your apartment right now, I think our orderly might be your intruder."

And he's already murdered one person, the same one he was involved with so long ago and he's harbored some sort of feelings for if he's able to hold onto it this long. So what does that say about his intentions towards Anastasia?

It's only a slight relief when I'm able to jump out of the car in front of my building and join the throng of people already here. It looks as though the building has been evacuated. Police barricades surround us holding the media at bay and I successfully ignore all the shouts of my name followed by questions about what is happening.

We find Sawyer near an FBI van—it seems that like Taylor, he's called in a few favors from his time before being in my employment. Nevertheless, the moment his eyes find me, he swallows hard and I'm not sure if he's waiting for me to fire or punch him. Both can wait until I have Ana back.

"Anything new?" I ask briskly, my eyes drifting upwards until they find my balcony on the topmost floor as though I'm expecting to see Ana standing there looking down and waving at me.

"No, sir," Sawyer responds regretfully. "Every way into the apartment has been sealed. We were discussing rappelling down the building from the room—there would be enough room around the balcony that the perp would miss one or two people coming through. It would only take one well-aimed shot to bring him down, but we're worried about what could happen to Miss Steele if we are seen. The FBI and SWAT teams have snipers aimed towards the apartment windows, but the only way they'll get a shot is if he's stupid enough to open a door. The windows of the penthouse are all top-grade, bulletproof—nothing short of a grenade or rocket launcher is getting through them."

"Have you spoken to them?" Taylor asks. "Have demands been made?"

Sawyer shakes his head. "All phone lines in the apartment have been cut off." He turns away briefly before handing Taylor what I recognize as an evidence bag containing what I immediately recognize as Ana's phone, or at least what remains of it. "It was thrown from the apartment a few hours ago. These are the biggest pieces we could find."

"Where are we on getting into the apartment?" I ask.

"Close, we think," Sawyer answers as though he's relieved to finally share some good news. "Barney has been systematically taking down the firewalls layer by lawyer. Whoever this guy is, though, he knows his shit and has kicked Barney and every other hacker out of the system. By the time they got back in, the firewalls rebuilt themselves."

"Christ," Taylor mutters, shaking his head. "The fire escape staircase and the service elevator?"

"The elevator is connected with the others in the building and it isn't responding. The staircase doors have been chained shut and the electronic locks have been engaged."

"So use a fucking blowtorch and cut through them," I snap impatiently. "Get a helicopter and look into the windows."

"It's been tried, sir," Sawyer replies, shaking his head. "The helicopter view didn't give us anything to work with; I imagine the noise warned him and he took shelter farther into the apartment."

I grit my teeth. "How do we even know Anastasia is still alive?" I force myself to ask.

Sawyer gestures for us to follow him into the FBI surveillance van where he points out a screen showing an infrared view of my apartment. "Long range, high-powered scope that can detect heat sources through the walls miles away. It's a live feed," he explains, pointing out a particular screen. I can't quite pinpoint where in my apartment this view has been taken, but I don't care right now. Two red shapes can be seen, one pacing back and forth, the other curled up on the floor. Ana. It has to be Ana. And this proves she's alive. The amount of relief I feel nearly knocks me over.

"They've been there for about an hour or two now," Sawyer murmurs. "Unfortunately we can't tell whether one of them might be injured."

As much as I hate the concept, I think I could cope with Ana being injured if it means I get her back alive.

Suddenly, there's a flurry of activity outside and we rush out of the van to see what's happening. "We have control of the service elevator," someone informs us. "We're moving in."

"I'm going with," I say firmly. A handful of people stop and stare at me then at each other, silently debating which of them has the balls to challenge me.

"Sir, I must insist that you wait outside," Taylor says quietly.

I look at him as though he's grown a second head. "It wasn't a fucking question," I growl. The SWAT team starts inside the building and when I start after them, Taylor actually steps in front of me, holding a hand up to stop but not touch me.

"Get the fuck out of my way or you're fucking fired," I threaten quietly, feeling my temper shooting to the surface.

Taylor doesn't flinch. "I will gladly hand in my resignation the moment Miss Steele is safe if that is what you want, but right this second, you'll only do more harm than good and you could risk her being seriously injured. Please remain here, sir."

As pissed as I am at being ordered around by my own employee, a part of me understands his point, and he's right, I admit grudgingly. The moment I step foot into that apartment, I would throw caution to the wind and proceed to beat the shit out of the person holding Ana hostage and I probably wouldn't stop until he was dead.

And then, out of nowhere, the entire street goes silent at the distant cracking noise that I inherently know came from my apartment. Taylor, Sawyer, and I are staring in shock at my balcony.

"The SWAT team hasn't made it to the penthouse yet," I hear somebody say.

"Tell me that wasn't what it sounded like," I quietly beg Taylor.

Taylor shakes his head. "I can't, sir," he replies. "It was a gunshot."

Ana...

Though I want to rush upstairs in spite of Taylor's order to remain where I am, I couldn't move even if I tried. Fear has me paralyzed, fear that the woman I love has been shot and I may never see her beautiful blue eyes again. She'll never smile at me again. I'll never make love to her again. Everything I've been planning for our future together blows away like dust.

There are no words to describe the pain I'm feeling. How often have I thought I would be nothing without Ana? The mere thought was devastating, but now with that thought possibly becoming reality, it's as though everything I am is slowly fading away.

Distantly I hear the crackle of people talking over radios and see a team of EMTs rushing into the building pushing two stretchers. I watch them with complete detachment, vaguely aware that Taylor is watching me with concern. I'm not sure I can handle what will come out of that building, but my feet begin to move closer of their own accord. I don't know how much time passes before the first stretcher comes out the door. As afraid as I am to look, I do and finally set eyes on the bastard who tried to destroy my life and has quite possibly succeeded by taking away the one person in my life who matters. I'm tempted to go over to where he's been loaded into an ambulance to ensure he knows every bit of rage and fear and loss that I'm currently experiencing, but I'm distracted by the appearance of the second stretcher. It only takes one glance to confirm the identity of that person—I'd recognize that brown hair anywhere. A group of EMTs surround her, shielding me from her, but I get a brief glance before she's lifted into the second ambulance. She's paler than I've ever seen her, even after her last hospitalization. But I begin to breathe again when I realize they've put an oxygen mask over her face, which they wouldn't do have done if she weren't alive.

"Sir," Taylor says gently, "we should go. They'll be taking Miss Steele to assess her injuries."

"She's alive," I whisper desperately.

Taylor gives me a brief small smile. "I would say so, sir."

* * *

As the sun rises over Seattle, I see nothing but Ana's sleeping face. It wasn't until we arrived at the hospital that we learned what the SWAT team found when they got into my apartment. Travis Kingston was on the ground surrounded by a pool of his own blood from a gunshot wound to the chest. The working theory is that Ana somehow managed to disarm Kingston just before the SWAT team reached them and got a shot off before succumbing to her own injuries. Kingston was rushed to surgery but didn't make ti through. He died on the operating table. I hope he was in agonizing pain.

Brandon Riley was taken into police custody. With his half-brother dead, he's being charged with conspiracy to commit murder as a result of Elena's death, kidnapping, and a dozen other things I don't give a shit about right now.

As for Ana herself... well, it certainly could have been so much worse. Her right arm is encased in a cast and held in place against her chest by a sling. She's covered in bruises and cuts, none of which are too serious. The injury we're most concerned about is the concussion that has rendered her unconscious. We don't know the origins of the injuries and we won't until Ana has woken. I don't even know exactly what happened while she was trapped in the apartment with Kingston. Every time I consider the possibilities, I'm filled with rage so instead I avert my focus to something I can control. Like where Ana and I will go when she's released from the hospital. I have no desire to take her back to Escala and she'll probably feel the same, especially when she takes into account the other thing the doctors told me.

"Hey, Mom sent me with breakfast."

For the first time in hours, I look away from Ana towards the quiet, sobered voice of my brother. Elliot is poking his head through the door, carrying a plastic takeout bag from IHOP. The sight actually elicits a small smile from me. "I'm not particularly hungry," I tell my brother as he enters the room, glancing worriedly at Ana.

"Yeah, we figured you'd say that," Elliot says dismissively. "Which is why Mom said to tell you that if you don't eat, it's all going straight into the trash."

I turn to glare at my brother as he unpacks the bag with Styrofoam containers. This is the problem with family; they know every single one of your buttons and won't hesitate to push them to get their way. Grudgingly, I take one of the containers with pancakes and snatch the cup of coffee Elliot was bringing to his lips.

He scowls briefly, but once I take a bite of pancakes he relaxes. "Any change?" he asks through a mouthful of his own food.

"No," I say quietly.

He nods and sighs. "You okay?" he asks, sitting beside me as we eat.

I shrug. "I'm fine," I mutter untruthfully. I'm still in a state of elevated panic and adrenaline rush that I can't seem to shake and I know the only way to calm me is for Ana to wake so I can truly know she'll be all right.

Elliot continues to watch me expectantly and I know he won't back down until he receives a proper response.

Growling to myself, I set aside what's left of my breakfast. "It's barely been four fucking days since I told her father that I would take care of her, that I would keep her safe. Now look at her."

"Christian, I know you feel as though it's your responsibility to take care of everyone you love, but you cannot keep blaming yourself when something bad happens. What are you going to do, lock her in a compound surrounded by armed guards for the rest of her life?"

I actually consider the suggestion for a moment.

Elliot smirks. "You can't control the entire world."

"I could try," I reply darkly.

"You heard about Elena?" he asks after several quiet minutes. I nod, my gaze on Ana again. "Of course you have. Well, I won't be shedding any tears for her."

"Nor me," I say. "The police think the bastard who did this to Ana is the same one who killed Elena."

"Christ," Elliot murmurs, shaking his head. ""So I got to ask, was Ana actually his target or was it you?"

"I don't know," I answer. "Could have been either, could have been both. He could have been using Ana to get to me."

Elliot shakes his head. "Lifestyles of the rich and famous," he murmurs wryly. His brow furrows. "Or is this more like lifestyles of the sex slave?"

I glare at him, but the moment I see his lips twitching, I relax. "Asshole," I mutter, fighting my amusement. Leave it to Elliot to lighten the mood despite the circumstances. Then I sigh as I'm brought back to the present. "Why can't I keep her safe, Elliot?"

"She's going to be fine," Elliot says bracingly. "She'll have a hell of a headache, but that's all. Stop being so hard on yourself."

Naturally I want to argue, but he's right. Ana will be fine—physically, at least. When she wakes and realizes what happened in the apartment, what she had to do to end her captivity, she'll be a mess. Of all the people who wouldn't think twice about ending a life to defend their own, Ana is not one of them. She's sweet and innocent, and wouldn't hurt a fly intentionally. I wonder vaguely how much she knew when she aimed that gun, whether she knew that it was more than just her own life at stake.

Sighing again, I reach out for Ana's good hand, caressing the back of her fingers, silently promising to do whatever possible to help her through this.


	31. Chapter 31

More time passes. At some point Elliot left me alone with my thoughts and throughout the evening several people have visited. Kate, Mia, my parents, Ana's dad. Her mother is currently flying out as well, but I'm too preoccupied to concern myself with the impending threat of meeting my girlfriend's mother under the given, unfortunate circumstances. A small part of me is hoping Ray might vouch for me with Carla Adams.

It's the middle of the night and Ana hasn't so much as twitched. The slow, rhythmic rise and fall of her chest is the only assurance I have that she's still breathing, still with me.

Taylor popped in a while ago to inform me that Brandon Riley has been formally brought up on charges and he's managed to solve another mystery. He discovered how Kingston was able to get into my apartment undetected: Ryan, the member of my security team that we suspected to be part of Riley and his brother's plans, told him exactly how to slip through—Sawyer being downstairs accepting Chinese takeout for Ana at the time was a stroke of luck on his part. The police are currently searching for Ryan for conspiracy to kidnap or some such bullshit. Taylor's men are also searching and since Taylor is taking Ryan's betrayal personally, I know exactly who will find Ryan first and it won't be pretty when they do. I don't want to know more than that and Taylor isn't sharing what will happen when Ryan is found. Tempted as I am to be present when Ryan is found to exact some justice on Ana's part, it's more important for me to be here with her when she wakes.

And finally, after one of the longest nights of my life, she begins to wake. At first, I think I imagined the squeezing of my fingers as I fitfully doze in the bed beside Ana's bed. Then it happens again, and I sit up straight, squeezing her fingers back. It only takes a moment to find her sleepy blue eyes locked on me and the faint smile on her lips.

"Hi," I whisper, smiling widely in relief. "You've had quite a bit of a sleep-in, Miss Steele." My tone is one of playful disapproval and right on cue, she rolls her eyes at me. I start to ask how she's feeling, whether she needs something for the pain when she tries to move her broken arm and winces, but I stop, watching as she begins to remember what happened to her and where she is.

Her eyes widen with what I think might be the fear she experienced in the apartment. When she begins to shake, I know I'm right.

"Hey," I whisper comfortingly, moving to sit beside her on the bed. "It's okay, baby, you're safe now." I lean down and embrace her as best I can without pulling on her IV or aggravating her injuries. Pulling back, I press a gentle lingering kiss to her lips, tracing the line of her jaw with my finger.

"What about... him?" Ana whispers, eyes wide.

I suck in a sharp breath, uncertain whether this is the right time for this particular conversation. I'm saved when the nurse I summoned by pressing the button on the side of Ana's bed enters the room. Grudgingly, I slip off the bed to give her room to check Ana's vital signs. The entire time, even when answering the nurse's questions about how she feels, Ana's eyes never leave mine.

When we're left alone again, I notice Ana fighting to keep her eyes open. She's exhausted, but she wants to stay awake to be with me. I love her more in this moment than I did in the one before.

"Sleep, if that's what you want, baby," I murmur, reaching out to push her hair out of her eyes. "We can talk later. And I'm not going anywhere; I'll be right here when you wake up again, I promise."

She's barely able to nod as her eyelids win the battle and she relaxes again.

My relief, palpable just a moment ago, fades as she again finds rest. My biggest concern since coming here has been when and if she would open her eyes again despite her doctor's assurances that she would. Not that we've leapt that hurdle, I'm forced to think solely about the other bit of information I was given following her initial examination and somehow, it's a hundred times more frightening than anything else I've ever experienced. At the time, I'd been tempted to laugh at the doctor or punch him in the face, but in the end, I could do nothing more than stare at him numbly. Even now, hours later, I still can't quite believe it and my first instinct is to run as fast and hard as I can away from here until I can figure out what to do. I won't, though; I only just promised Ana I'd be here when she woke, that I wasn't going anywhere. I wonder vaguely if she'd excuse my leaving just long enough for an emergency session with Flynn. But I already know that I won't go anywhere and chance her waking alone and scared.

While musing about all the possible scenarios and outcomes of this information, my mother quietly enters the room and crosses to stand beside me, resting a hand on my shoulder.

"I heard she woke," Grace says softly.

I nod. "Briefly," I confirm. "We didn't get the chance to really talk." All of a sudden talking with Ana seems like the most important thing in the universe.

"You'll get your chance," Grace says confidently, moving towards the end of Ana's bed where her medical chart hangs. Before I can stop her, she's reading.

"Mom, don't," I say urgently, but I'm too late. Her eyes are wide, her hand over her mouth as she gasps. When she looks at me again, her eyes are watery.

"Christian," she breathes in wonder.

It's my turn to be wide-eyed and speechless. I know I'm not ready to deal with what my mother just read about, but I'm just as unprepared to have this conversation with anybody, much less my mother. But in a way, it might be good that she knows; babies are certainly nothing new to her so who better to get advice from. She joins me again, pulling over a chair while she smiles at me with pride and love and unadulterated joy.

"I can't believe this," she whispers, looking between Ana and me.

I huff a humorless laugh. "That makes two of us, then," I mutter.

Her smile slips with uncertainty. "You didn't know, did you?" she asks.

I shake my head. "Not until the doctor felt the need to reassure me that the baby is fine," I say flatly, replaying the conversation in my mind yet again. "I don't even know if Ana knows."

"Well," my mother says, taking my hand, "it's early enough she might not have." Grace studies me for several minutes while I watch the calming rhythm of Ana's breathing. My thoughts about what sort of father I could possibly be must show on my face, because Grace squeezes my fingers and looks at me knowingly. "You'll make a wonderful father, Christian."

I swallow hard, wanting to ask how the hell she could possibly know that, but I can't get the words out.

"I take it this is a surprise?" Grace asks gently. "Not something you two planned?"

"No, definitely not. We barely know each other, Mom, she's only just moved in with me. How can this possibly be the right time?" I say, fighting not to sound as hysterical as I'm beginning to feel. "She was on birth control; I don't understand how this happened."

Grace raises an eyebrow at me. "Son, I think you're the last person who needs the birds and the bees talk," she says dryly, surprising a smile from me. "As far as timing... well, you're about to learn that children don't operate on a set schedule and certainly not one convenient for their parents. The universe decides when these things happen. And the birth control issue... nothing but abstinence is 100% certain."

Of course I know this; I'm not an idiot. But I've never had to deal with this sort of problem before. My submissives were always on the most reliable form of birth control. Perhaps I should have insisted on the same for Ana, but I suppose it's too late now.

Grace sits with me in companionable silence while I sort through my thoughts, which only jumbles everything even more. Eventually she leaves, making me promise to call her if Ana or I need anything.

Tired as I am right now, I know I'll never get any rest tonight, but I need to be close to Ana, so I scoot my chair closer to her bed and rest my head on one arm while the other is draped protectively over her belly and by some miracle, my eyes begin to close and I'm lost in a dream world where the concept of becoming a father isn't the end of the world.

* * *

Despite my determination and promise to Ana, I'm not at her side when she wakes. Irritated as I am about that, it couldn't be helped; Taylor needed to discuss the current situation with me and I didn't want to do it in Ana's room. Ryan was located and arrested in Tacoma this morning, charged with a handful of felonies. He tried claiming he was forced to tell Travis Kingston how to get into my apartment. Taylor called bullshit immediately. As for Brandon Riley, his fingerprints and DNA were discovered in Elena's home, both in her bedroom and the playroom. He's being charged with her attack and the police are trying to tie him to her death. Personally, I could have gone the rest of my life without hearing most of those details, but it is a slight relief that those responsible for what happened to Ana will be punished.

At my insistence, Taylor dug into Sawyer's actions from that day, but he'd done everything by the book and nothing would have changed what happened. If he hadn't gone down to accept Ana's takeout delivery, Kingston still would have gotten in and possibly would have caught Sawyer off guard. The end result could have been to find him dead somewhere in the apartment. Sawyer is experienced in bringing down suspects, armed or not, but sometimes experience doesn't match up to psychosis and desperation.

Sawyer feels guilty enough that he attempted to hand in his resignation which I declined. Many people are to blame for this and I put myself at the top of that list, but I believe Sawyer did everything he could. He's now stationed outside Ana's room. So when I was finished with Taylor and Sawyer tells me Ana is still asleep, I make the decision to keep the appointment I made with Flynn last week. As badly as I want to be with Ana, I'm beginning to feel claustrophobic from everything that has happened and all the information I'm being forced to deal with. It's almost too much to handle and I'm hoping John might have some advice and insight.

It's a relief to enter the familiar surroundings of John Flynn's office and I know I made the right choice by coming here. I take my usual seat on the green couch, resting my arms on the back and crossing an ankle over a knee while John settles in his chair across from me with his notepad on his lap and hands crossed on his chest.

"It's been a rough couple days for you," he says leadingly, cocking his head to the side as he observes me.

I huff at his understatement, not bothering to wonder how he already knows most of what I'm here to discuss. The second I stepped out the hospital doors, I was ambushed by a horde of reporters who shouted questions at me about what happened in my apartment two nights ago. What bothers me the most is that they seem to have a fairly accurate summation of the events, including how the person behind it was killed and that Ana was injured, putting her in the hospital. Thankfully they don't know _how_ Kingston was killed or about Ana's pregnancy; the press would have a fucking field day. Not to mention the link to Elena...

"You know it would help if you vocalized that inner monologue," John says helpfully with a small smile. "Let's start with... how's Ana?"

"Asleep," I answer. "She woke briefly late last night, but almost immediately went to sleep again. She was held captive for close to ten hours in my apartment—well, _our_ apartment—and she ended up with a concussion, a broken arm, and probably a hell of a lot of traumatic memories to deal with."

John nods with genuine sympathy. "Well, if she needs to talk, my door is always open," he says kindly. "What of the person who broke into your apartment?"

Sighing, I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees and running my fingers through my hair. "He's dead," I say coldly. "Nobody else knows that yet, though, apart from the police and my security team. I don't know if Ana even remembers..."

"What happened?" John asks quietly.

"Ana killed him," I admit in a whisper. "We don't have all the details, but the evidence suggests Ana was somehow able to get his gun and she shot him moments before the SWAT team entered the apartment."

John's eyes widen briefly and he makes a note on his pad. "Well, that is something she will have to face and it probably won't be easy. How are you handling things, Christian?"

I shrug almost dismissively, even though I know the answer to the question. "Could be better, I guess," I mutter. "I spent hours imagining every horrible thing the bastard could have been doing to her and the things I wanted to do to him if I got my hands on him. I feel guilty that this happened in my apartment where I promised her she would be safe. I fucking hate that she had to do what she did, but I'm also fucking glad she did, because I don't know what could have happened if she didn't."

"What do you think could have happened? You said the SWAT team had already started to move in..."

"Yes, but if he realized they were coming for him, he could have killed Ana or hurt her worse..." I trail off at the thought that I not only would have lost Ana, but our baby as well. And as it's the first time that phrase has crossed my mind, I eyes widen to the point that John sits forward in concern. I shake myself back into the present; we'll get to that. "I could have lost her altogether, John, and in the last several days, I've realized losing her would end me completely. She means more to me than anything else in my life. I need her."

John smiles. "That's a hell of an admission coming from you, Christian," he says. "Especially as you've spent your entire life coveting your independence. This is progress, Christian."

I shake my head. "Maybe, but it doesn't make me any less terrified." I hesitate. "Ana's pregnant, John." His eyes widen in a way I might normally laugh at, but humor is a long way away from me right now. "I didn't know until she was in the hospital and I suspect she doesn't know about either."

"Well," he says, stunned. "For the first time since you've been seeing me, I genuinely don't know what to say."

"That makes two of us," I say, parroting the conversation I had with my mother. "What the hell am I supposed to do here, John? A fucking baby?"

"You're not the first man to deal with this, Christian," John says fairly. "Though I can honestly say it's not something I thought I'd see you deal with so soon."

I stare at him. "So soon?" I say tonelessly. "I never thought I'd deal with this ever. I never wanted this."

"But it's happened," he says matter-of-factly. "The question is how you're going to deal with it now that it has."

"Why do you think I'm here?" I demand. "I don't fucking know how to deal with it! I'm still getting used to having a girlfriend who doesn't follow any of my rules, who does what she wants when she wants to do it whether I like it or not. Now I'm told I'm going to be a father? How am I supposed to do that? Whose brilliant idea was it to put me in this position? I would fuck up any kid and that's assuming my issues aren't genetic. I can't do this!"

"I don't believe that," John says calmly while hysteria washes over me. "Despite being told you would crash and burn, you became a billionaire at twenty-two years old. You started a business that has worldwide respect and notoriety. Aside from that, your charitable contributions, your efforts to provide food and medicine and technology to third-world countries cannot be matched. Christian, you can do absolutely anything you put your mind to, including this."

"That's different," I say firmly, pointing a finger at him. "I know how to run my business and do all the other shit that I do. What do I know about being a parent?"

"Most parents don't know anything about it until it happens." John cocks his head to the side again, this time scrutinizing me in a way that makes me shift uncomfortably. "Christian, I realize you spent your early childhood terrorized and hungry and unloved, but you must see that this baby will be in a very different situation."

I glare at him. "I thought you were against rehashing the past," I remind him coolly.

He smirks. "I am, typically, but sometimes in order to move forward, you have to look into the past," he says wisely. "Your past would give anybody pause, but think about it, Christian. For one thing, do you actually believe that Anastasia will allow you to do anything to damage a child? You have spent so much of your life believing you're some sort of monster undeserving of anything good in his life that you've blinded yourself to how different you've become in the last few months. You're calmer, for the most part; you have more patience. Better than that, for the first time since we've known each other, you're happy and hopeful for a future outside the world of mergers and acquisitions. Christian, you could have a family of your own and you can have the chance to teach your child everything you've learned of the world." He sighs when he doesn't see the epiphany light bulb flashing above my head. "This isn't advice I would typically give my patients, but most of my patients don't have your history. Christian, look at this as a way to make up for your early childhood. Give your child the things you were robbed of, and I don't mean your bank account. You've realized that you have the capacity to love and you've proven that with Anastasia. You have so much more to give; don't let your fear hold you back from your future."

"You say that like it's easy," I say through clenched teeth. "I can't even keep Ana safe; how the fuck will I keep a child safe, too?"

"You'll find a way," John says with such confidence that I suddenly want to punch him. "I take it you've not spoken to Anastasia about any of this yet?"

I shake my head. "I haven't been given the opportunity," I say rather petulantly. "And anyway, I wanted to speak with you first; I was afraid of what I might have said or done otherwise."

"Give yourself some credit, Christian," John says, exasperated. "And go talk to Anastasia. I'm sure she'll have some rough days ahead given what she's been through and what the future holds for the two of you. If you need anything, you know where to find me."

* * *

I only feel slightly better as I return to the hospital after leaving John's office, but I'm at least a bit more prepared to talk to Ana. Sighing outside her room, I'm annoyed that I've been gone so long; I can hear low voices, one of which I recognize as hers which means she's woken up again. Without me at her side as I promised. Convincing myself I did the right thing, I enter and find Ana curled up on her good side talking with Kate. Her eyes dart towards the door with what I think might be hope and when she finds me her lips curl into a smile. From here I can't tell how much she knows about what has happened, so I plaster on a small smile that hopefully won't give away every bit of uneasiness and fear and frustration I've felt in the last couple of days.

"Hi," Ana whispers as I approach.

"Hi yourself," I say back, moving past Kate to press a kiss to Ana's lips. If we were alone, I might extend the kiss since it's been so long since I've really kissed her. I pull back and the look in her eyes suggests she wishes I hadn't stopped either, but we're both more than aware of her best friend's presence. "I'm sorry I wasn't here when you woke up. I had some things I needed to take care of."

Ana shakes her head slightly. "It's okay," she assures me. "Kate was here."

I shoot Kate a vaguely grateful smile. I've spent as much time possible avoiding my family and Ana's since we got here so I wouldn't have to see the accusations in their eyes that say they blame me for this just as much as I blame myself. If I were paying attention, I might see the sympathy in Kate's eyes, but my focus is on Ana.

"And now I've got to get to work," she says apologetically. "I just wanted to drop by to check-in and bring a decent pair of pajamas instead of those ugly, itchy hospital robes." She gestures towards the dresser where I see a folded pair of blue pajamas as she stands and prepares to leave. "I'll be back later, sweetie. If you need me to bring anything, let me know."

After a quick hug for Ana, Kate leaves the room and for the first time since we met, I'm actually nervous about being left alone with her. I tentatively sit in Kate's vacated seat, highly aware that Ana is watching my every move and expression.

"How are you feeling?" I ask quietly. "Do you need more pain medication?"

Ana shakes her head slightly. "I'm okay. The nurse gave me something before Kate got here and it's starting to work."

I nod. "Good." I look around the room for inspiration on how to start the conversations I know we need to have, but there's nothing. At least not until I notice the frown on her lips. "What is it?"

She shrugs. "Nobody can seem to tell me what's going on or what happened," she murmurs.

"Ah," I say in understanding. "Well, perhaps I can fill in the blanks. What do you remember?"

The frown deepens as she thinks back. "Not much," she admits. "Sawyer went downstairs to get the Chinese I ordered. I was in our bedroom unpacking some things." A jolt of pleasure shoots through me at her words. _Our room._ She hasn't called it that before and it helps settle my nerves a little. "I heard the elevator and assumed it was Sawyer, so I went to meet him, but there wasn't anyone there. Something hit me from behind and I think it knocked me out, because I woke up in your study and this man was there, pacing around with a phone in one hand and a gun in the other."

"He was on the phone?" I ask sharply, mostly to distract myself from the thought of her being knocked out and then held at gunpoint, even though I knew as much beforehand. "Do you know who he was talking to?"

She shakes her head. "No, but he was angry. I think he expected you to be there and he was angry when he found out you were in New York."

So Kingston was after me. I suspected as much, but it makes the guilt heavier. If I had been there, perhaps Ana would have been left unharmed. Then again, if she had, he would have used her to torture me, hurting her right in front of me or worse. I would have done anything he asked of me if it meant her safety.

"He had me handcuffed to your desk," she says quietly, looking down at her broken arm. "And he kept asking me things about you—about your playroom and what I liked most in there. What we do in there together. I told him we'd never been in there like that, that you don't do that anymore and he laughed at me, saying it's not possible to stop that part of you. He said eventually your true self would reveal itself because it always does..." She rolls her eyes. "I pretended to believe him; he was calmest when he thought I believed him and didn't argue with him."

My brow furrows. So, what? Kingston was trying to turn Ana against me? Some twisted sense of protecting her innocence from the monster he knew existed? The monster Elena created? If she did that to me, she probably did the same to him and it was only made worse when she turned him away in favor of me.

"Did he take you into the playroom?" I ask in a low voice, uncertain if I want the answer.

Her head shake is a relief. "No," she says softly. "I was in the study for most of the time."

"And you were handcuffed," I remind myself. "How did you get free?"

"He was distracted," she says, thinking back. "We could hear police sirens through the open doors on the balcony and I think he was starting to panic, so I knew I had to do something. I managed to get my hand through the cuff without drawing his attention." She shows me her casted arm. "It wasn't easy and it hurt more than anything, but I did it. He was in the great room, pacing and on the phone again, but whoever he was trying to call wasn't answering and he was getting agitated again. I got behind him and hit him in the head with the vase by the stairs. Unfortunately it wasn't hard enough to knock him out, but it was enough that his grip on the gun weakened so I took it. He was in the way of the foyer so I knew I wasn't getting out of the apartment that way; I ran back to the study and he chased me. He pushed me and I hit my head on the side of your desk, but I managed to roll over and point the gun at him even though I was passing out. And that's all I remember."

Pride that she managed to do all that even while she was injured and in pain wars with more anger directed towards Kingston that he put her in that position at all, and my nerves build up again because I know what she's going to ask next though I don't know how she'll handle it.

"What happened to him, Christian? Did I shoot him?" she whispers.

Swallowing hard, I nod. "Yes," I whisper back. "His name was Travis Kingston and he was Brandon Riley's half-brother, the one behind all our recent troubles. Taylor got word from Sawyer while we were in New York that something had happened here and we rushed home. When I got here, the police and FBI were already in place and had been for hours, but they couldn't get into the building because Kingston was able to hack into the Escala security servers and lock everything down. Right after they managed to regain control so they could move in, we heard a gunshot and I thought..." I trail off, remembering all the images that were in my head in that moment. I'd thought that was it, that I'd lost her forever and it was the worst feeling in the world. Clearing my throat, I look back at Ana.

"They brought Kingston out first," I continue. "And it was a struggle not to kill him right there despite the fact that I was surrounded by law enforcement. But then they brought you out and you were all I cared about. I didn't know the extent of your injuries and they wouldn't let me near you. When I got to the hospital, Kingston was in surgery and the doctors still wouldn't let me see you until they had a chance to check your injuries and get you settled." I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Ana, I don't really know how to tell you this, but the gunshot wound was enough to kill Kingston. He died in surgery."

She pales and begins to shake as my words sink in. "I killed him?" she whispers in horror. "Oh, my God."

"Hey," I say gently, leaning forward and grasping her good hand. "You did what you had to do to survive. Ana, Kingston and Riley... one of them killed Elena before Kingston got into the apartment. From what I can tell, he was obsessed with her—I don't know if he was in love with her or if it was all motivated by revenge, but if he could do that to her, I don't even want to imagine what he'd have done to you, someone he doesn't know or care about in the slightest. And this might be absolutely the wrong thing to say right now, but I'm glad you did what you did. It means you're still here with me and eventually, we can get past this and move on."

I'm not sure she's heard a word I said; her focus is elsewhere and I know this is hitting her harder than I imagined it would.

"I'm tired," she says eventually, finally breaking the silence. "I think I'd like to sleep."

I sigh, but realize this is probably exactly what she needs right now rather than to rehash this terrible moment in her life. "Okay," I whisper as she rolls over and gets comfortable. "This time I will be here when you wake. Whatever you need, just say the word, understand?"

She barely nods before her eyes close completely. I stand and lean over, pressing my lips to hers briefly. "I love you, Anastasia," I whisper. "And I'm here for you, no matter what." My eyes dart down to her still deceptively flat belly, feeling almost peaceful despite my earlier fears. "And for you, too, little one. Always."


	32. Chapter 32

Hours pass before Ana wakes again, but as I promised, I'm at her side when she does. I've spent the time that she slept getting updates and working out how I'm going to broach the subject of Ana's pregnancy, assuming she doesn't yet know. Following our first conversation, I'm convinced she doesn't know or she would have reacted differently while we spoke. When her doctor arrives to examine her, I'm a bundle of nerves as I wait for him to say something, but he only clears her to eat real food and seems relieved at how well she's already feeling. I excuse myself to find something for Ana to eat that isn't hospital food, promising her a quick return. Rather than leaving the hospital, I hunt down Taylor and send him to pick up something light for her to eat then make a few quick phone calls to let people know Ana is awake again, but suggest they wait until morning to visit; I'm determined that we talk more tonight and preferably without interruption.

But clearly during my absence, something has happened. Her eyes widen when I walk in and she looks almost fearful. Shit. The doctor must have told her... Well, that might be easier; how do you tell a woman she's pregnant when you've barely had time to wrap your own mind around it?

"Taylor is going bring back dinner for us," I say quietly, sitting in the chair beside her bed again. "I'm sure he won't be long."

She nods slowly, her eyes still fearful. "Okay," she says meekly.

I can see her struggling to find a way to tell me what I already know and I decide to put her out of her misery. "What's the matter?" I ask, taking her good hand in mine.

She takes a deep, shuddering breath, wincing because of her fractured ribs, and slowly lets it go. "I..." she begins in a whisper. At the last second, she loses her nerve. "Nothing. I'm just tired, I guess."

I sigh, moving to sit beside her on the bed. "Are you sure?" I ask, twisting my body enough that I can rest a hand on her belly. "Or perhaps you're worried about how I'll react to this?"

The fear leaves her expression and her eyes widen again. "You know already?" she whispers.

I nod. "The doctor told me when you first arrived and they did their examination," I confirm. "He assumed I knew, it seems, and didn't think twice about reassuring me that the baby was unharmed."

"Oh," she mouths at me looking nervous again. "And how do you feel about it?"

Running my free hand through my hair, I snort, shaking my head. "I'm still working through all of that. In fact, part of the reason I wasn't here when you woke this morning is because I went to see Dr. Flynn," I admit reluctantly. "I needed some... assistance and advice to sort it all out in my mind. Overall, though, I guess I'm apprehensive and maybe a little scared."

"Why scared?" she asks.

I raise an eyebrow. "Why do you think?" I ask rhetorically. "We can start with how I got a woman I hardly know pregnant when in the past I'd have done everything within my power to prevent such a thing from happening."

Her brow furrows. "You don't want children, do you?" she whispers, her own expression full of apprehension.

"It's not something I've wanted in the past," I say carefully. "And certainly not something I strived for. But at the same time, I never thought I would want a girlfriend or to be in love."

"And now?" she says with an unreadable expression.

I shake my head. "Well, I certainly want the latter," I say with a crooked smile that I know doesn't reach my eyes. She doesn't smile back or even react at all. I sigh. "I'm happy with my life right now, Anastasia. And happy doesn't come close to expressing how I feel. You've made me imagine a future so much different than what I'm used to. And I'll admit I have very briefly thought about the possibilities of having a child with you some time in the far future, but only in abstract terms." I attempt a dismissive shrug in the hopes of hiding exactly how nervous I am about this. "What about you? Is this something you want?"

"I thought it would be farther in my future," she says quietly. "You know, once I settled in a career and got married..." She trails off, flushing and trying to twist her fingers together even though one hand is mostly hidden by a cast. "Like you said, you and I barely know one another and I only just graduated college. I didn't foresee meeting you or falling in love or moving in with you... And I sure as hell didn't foresee a baby so soon."

Judging by the expression in her eyes, I'm not the only one feeling a little afraid of what our future might hold and that realization somehow calms me. It puts us on an even playing field. "Well, it's happened, so we'll deal with it."

She frowns. "Deal with it, how?" she asks rife with trepidation.

"That's not what I mean," I say once I work out the possible implication of her words. "I mean, not if that isn't what you want to do. All I meant is that we've already been through so much together and once we get used to the idea, we'll figure it out just as we have everything else."

She's silent for a minute or two as she processes everything. Finally, she nods, her whole body relaxes. "Does anybody else know?"

"No," I reply, correcting myself a second later. "Well, I told John Flynn, and my mother knows, but that's because she read your chart. I wasn't sure how to tell the others, mostly because I thought I would be the one to have to tell you if your doctor didn't and that was difficult enough. And anyway, I'm not sure I want to be in the same room with your father when he finds out."

This elicits a smile. "What's wrong, Christian, afraid of a carpenter?" she asks teasingly.

I narrow my eyes at her, trying to hide my twitching lips, though I think she sees right through it. "He's also retired army and I suspect he knows his way around firearms," I joke. My smile fades when I see the look on her face at the mention of guns. "I'm sorry," I say quietly. "I don't mean to make light of any of this."

She shakes her head. "It's fine," she says quickly. "But you're right; Ray is highly trained when it comes to guns. He taught me, actually."

"I'm glad he did," I say seriously. "You might not be here otherwise."

"Maybe," she agrees, reaching for my hand.

Before either of us can do anything else, we're interrupted by Taylor's knock on the door as he enters carrying paper bag with dinner. "I don't mean to intrude," he says quietly, placing the bag on the table beside Ana's bed. "Is there anything else I can do for either of you, sir?"

I shake my head. "No, Taylor, we're good, but thank you." He nods and gives Ana a brief smile before leaving us alone again. When I glance at Ana, she's frowning a little. "What is it?"

She shrugs and shakes her head, staring at her fingers again. "Are we good?" she whispers.

I study her for a moment and think through the overly loaded question. I know what she's asking and what she isn't asking, and while I still don't know how any of this is supposed to work, I do know that I have no intention of losing her or what we have together. Reaching out, I tilt her chin up so she has to look at me. When she does, she looks nervous, so I try a small, reassuring smile that I doubt reaches my eyes. "Baby, we are better than good," I promise her. "I admit a level of uncertainty and panic, but given time, I think I'll be okay."

And given a bit more time, I might actually believe I can do this.

* * *

In the few days following all the drama at Escala, life seems to be settling down again, though by now I know better than to believe it's all really over. I haven't set foot in my penthouse and I haven't broached the subject with Ana yet, but I suspect she'll have similar thoughts on the place—I know if I enter my apartment, everywhere I look will bring back memories of what happened there. It would be worse for her, I imagine; she's the one who actually went through it. So, in what little spare time I have, it's spent continuing my search for a new home that I began while in New York. I think I've found the perfect place, but before I make any decisions, I want Ana to see it.

Today I get that chance. Her doctors agree with her insistences of the last day or two that she feels perfectly fine despite a mild headache and sore ribs, so she's being released from the hospital. After I help her get dressed, she finally asks about where we're going in a tone that suggests I'm right about her feelings on Escala.

I smile at her and trace a finger down her jawline. "For now, I've rebooked our room at the Fairmont," I say softly. "We can be comfortable enough there until other arrangements can be made."

Her brow furrows. "What arrangements might those be?" she asks suspiciously in response to my mysterious smile.

My smile widens and I lean in to kiss her briefly on the lips. "Well, they've yet to be made," I answer simply. "For now, let's just play it all by ear, shall we?"

"Play it by ear?" she repeats dubiously. "Since when do you play anything by ear?"

I huff a laugh, reaching out to rest a hand on her belly. "Lately that seems like all I'm doing," I respond, taking her hand. "Come. You didn't have much of a breakfast and now there are two of you who need nourishment."

Ignoring her eye roll at my stern tone, I help her stand and guide her to the wheelchair the hospital staff insists she takes down to the car, but rather than allowing the young male orderly to push her, I do it myself. The orderly gives me an indulgent smile and leads the way to the elevator.

The ride from the hospital to the Fairmont is enough to exhaust Ana. Once I have her settled comfortably on the couch, I order lunch for us and check to make sure Taylor had a chance to bring our things from Escala. He has, and I grab a pair of pajamas for Ana to change into which she insists on doing with minimal help from me. I can already see how this pregnancy will be: I'll be my normally protective, demanding, controlling self while she remains stubbornly and borderline irritating independent self. True, that side of her is part of the reason I fell in love with her in the first place, but given recent events, I'm going to be more determined than ever to keep her safe, not only because of the baby but because I've already failed her so many times and I need to ensure it never happens again.

While we eat, we talk about anything we can think of that doesn't have to do with what we've been through. She feels guilty for once again missing out on work even though I tell her it doesn't matter. My PR department has been swamped over the last few days dealing with press inquiries regarding what Ana went through and the possible connection I have to Elena Lincoln. Seattle's high society community is well known and most of them are well aware that my family considered Elena a close friend and they're also aware of how Elena was found after she was attacked. Couple that with what the media has learned about me and it's not a long stretch to connecting the two of us. Thankfully, my family has had time to adjust should that come to light, but I think Elena's murder and my girlfriend being held captive in my penthouse apartment will be a bit more interesting and will overshadow anything else.

Though she claimed to not be hungry, Ana cleared her plate and even started eyeing mine until I slid it in front of her to finish off. Now she's barely able to keep her eyelids open, so I take her to bed, tuck her in, and crawl in beside her, mostly because I don't want to be away from her for any amount of time despite knowing with absolute certainty that she is safe for once.

But unfortunately, there are matters that need my attention, things I've neglected in the last week because I've been too distracted with Ana. After stepping out onto the balcony so I don't wake her, I make my phone calls, but as always, other things creep up on me, and I rather quickly lose interest in work. I grab my laptop and take it back to the bedroom where Ana is still sleeping soundly and begin putting several things in motion that I now know I am more than ready to make happen.

Only a few months ago, these things never would have crossed my mind and if someone had told me where I would be right this minute and with whom, I'd have parroted one of Elena's sayings about how love is for fools and meant only for those who actually deserve it. I wouldn't have counted myself among them and I'm still uncertain about what it was exactly that I did to have somebody like Ana in my life, but I'm a smart man and I know better than to question it too much. My life was ordered back then and very rarely did I receive any surprises. If anyone had asked, I'd have said I was content—not happy, certainly. I hadn't known true happiness at that point. And to think it all changed with a Monday morning fender bender.

I still smirk every time I recall the moment that I realized the girl who rear-ended my car was going to work for my company. I had assumed that would be the end of our interactions and considering my immediate attraction towards her, I knew that would be a good thing. Rule one: Don't fuck the staff. But that wasn't the end, not by a long shot. She came to work on my floor with my second-in-command and while I tried to avoid her at all costs, her first week at GEH ended with her flying to Taiwan with my team and she was incredible. It was the first time in a very long time that I genuinely enjoyed the company of a woman to whom I wasn't related or had known for most of my life.

Still, I'd been too uneasy regarding my feelings towards her to let myself explore the possibility that she and I could be together. I pushed her away, or at least tried to, over and over again. I made mistakes and stupid choices that Ana somehow found it in herself to forgive. And I realized I couldn't be without her. The time we spent apart was hell on earth for me and even if that piece of shit Benjamin Reese hadn't sent me that picture of Ana sleeping in her bed telling me she would never be mine, I'd have found a way to get her back. I'm still a little dazed, to be honest, whenever I think all of this through, but it's a good sort of dazed. It's a daze I hope to live in until my last breath.

Beside me, Ana shifts and begins to wake and I quickly close the lid of the laptop so she doesn't see one of the surprises I have in store for her.

"Good evening, Miss Steele," I say softly when she rolls over to face me and opens her eyes. "How'd you sleep?"

She gives me a sleepy smile. "Better than I have in days," she murmurs. "I thought you'd be buried knee deep in work stuff since I know you haven't spent much time on it recently."

I smile at how well she already knows me. "It just so happens, I have been working. In fact, I've setup several meetings for the next week to finalize the prototype for the solar-powered cell phone and to sign off on the supplies delivery overseas next month."

"Very productive, Mr. Grey," she says, snuggling into my side. I smile and put an arm around her, playing with her hair. "I should probably decide what I'll do about work."

My smile turns into a frown as I try to work out her meaning. "What is there to decide?" I ask tentatively.

She shrugs. "What I'll tell people," she says.

I raise an eyebrow. "That doesn't really make it much clearer." I study her for a moment and come to a conclusion about what's on her mind. "You're worried about how people will respond to the baby?" I whisper. When her eyes widen in surprise, I know I'm right. "What's it matter? You wouldn't be the first pregnant woman to work at GEH and I seriously doubt you'll be the last. People have gotten used to the two of us being together; this is just another facet of that. If they can't accept it, if they don't like it, fuck them." She cracks a small smile. "And if you decide you don't want to return to GEH, that you want to do something else, I support you. I want to see you happy, Anastasia, and I want to make your dreams come true, whatever it takes."

"You are my dreams come true."

Her words stall my breath momentarily. "Back at you, Miss Steele," I whisper. It then occurs to me that a few months ago, I'd have scoffed derisively at her clichéd words. Now they make absolute sense and they are exactly how I feel about her. I frown briefly; typically at this point I would have her pressed into the mattress while I kiss her with everything I have, but I stop myself due to her injuries. She's watching me expectantly as she waits for me to do just that. Instead, I slide down in the bed and pull her to rest against my chest. "This weekend, I thought, if you're feeling better, we could get out for a while. There are some things I want to show you."

Her brow furrows. "What?" she asks suspiciously.

My smile returns. "Well, it's a surprise and if I told you, it wouldn't be that anymore, would it?" Her eyes narrow on me; my smile widens. "Look at me as sternly as you want, baby; I'm not saying a word."

She _hmphs_ in protest and I note that even her scowl is adorable. "So, what? You expect me to be cooped up in this room all week?"

I had considered the merits, but I also know how she would react to that. "No," I say slowly. "Admittedly there is a part of me that would be more than happy to insist you remain here where I'll know with absolute certainty that you'll be safe because I'm overprotective, more so now." I glance at her belly briefly. "But I won't keep you hostage here, Anastasia. In fact, we've been invited to my parents' house for dinner and since your mom is leaving tomorrow, my mom has invited her and your dad to join us."

She looks at me as though she never expected my family and hers to meet even though while she was in the hospital our mothers spent a lot of time together and Ray and my dad seemed to hit it off immediately. "I'd like that," she says shyly.

I smile at her, pressing a kiss to her lips and get out of bed before either of us can escalate the kiss. I have a few more arrangements to make before Ray Steele leaves tomorrow and it's important to make sure I'm prepared. The conversation I want to have with him could go either way and I'm nervous, because I'm not entirely certain what will happen if I don't get the answer I want. Part of me says I should go through with it regardless of what Ray says; the only opinion that truly matters to me is Ana's and if I have to go through the rest of my life with Ray hating me, it's a small price to pay to be with her. Then again, given everything that has happened, if he does say no and he has every reason to do so, perhaps it's a sign that it would be better for everyone if I just let her go. I can selfishly hold onto her even when I obviously can't keep her safe, but it's her choice to stay. Our baby doesn't have a choice and as much as I hate the thought, it might be better off without me in its life.

I shake my head at both scenarios knowing I'm just making it more difficult on myself. While Ana was in the hospital, Ray and I talked and though he didn't say as much, I know he doesn't blame me for what happened to her. Besides, the people making our lives hell are all but gone. Reese isn't going to see daylight for years, thanks to my dad and his law firm. Elena Lincoln is dead, so she won't be able to come between Ana and me again, even if I would allow that to happen. Brandon Riley, apart from whatever happened in Elena's apartment, isn't a threat. I'll be more than happy to watch him being locked up for however long the courts decide, but I believe he was being used as a pawn by his half-brother. Perhaps it's arrogance, but he doesn't have the balls to fuck with me again.

As for the holes in my security team, Taylor has taken it upon himself to expand the background checks he always runs when hiring new staff to include psychiatric evaluations and even polygraph tests. He, Sawyer, and Reynolds all voluntarily put themselves through the new and improved background checks to put my mind at ease, and all three of them came out clean. I hadn't thought it necessary, but I do have to admit I relaxed a bit when I read through the results.

All in all, although it may be premature, I think the danger has passed. Nothing like this can ever happen again; if it does, I will send Ana away. I'll break her heart, and mine, in the process if that is what it takes to keep her safe.

...

Sitting on my parents' couch with Ana happily tucked into my side, I'm relaxed and content for the first time in weeks. My family and Ana's parents surrounds us, and it feels as though things have been this way for years even though our families have only just met. I'm not on my guard, afraid of slipping up and revealing something about myself I don't want these people to know about. I don't think I've ever felt that way, but now there aren't any secrets or skeletons in the closet to be revealed.

More than that, my conversation with Ray couldn't have gone any better. He had me worried for a bit after I'd asked him to join me in the boathouse under the pretense of showing him my father's fishing boat. His expression gave nothing away as I revealed my true reasons for wanting a private conversation and for a few rough moments, I thought he would decline my request. In the end and after careful consideration, I got what I wanted and was even rewarded with what I think is a rare smile from Raymond Steele. I didn't tell him everything; Ana and I agreed not to tell our families about the pregnancy for a few months, partially so we could get used to the idea, and partially because we're both unwilling to get our families' hopes up just for them to find out something unthinkable happened. Besides, I think my mother would experience emotional overload after all the things she's learned about me and her happiness that I've finally met somebody I want to spend the rest of my life with.

Now that I've got Ray's blessing, I'm becoming impatient to get Ana's. I've had a dozen thoughts on how I want to propose to her, all of which are over the top. When I think back on my relationship with her, I'm starting to think simplicity might be the way to go with this. I think Ana has had enough excitement in her life recently to last awhile and I already know I don't have to impress her with my money or extravagance. She loves me and however I ask her, I think I know what her answer will be.

"What are you thinking about?" Ana asks quietly as I come to a decision.

I smile at her. "You," I whisper. "You look beautiful tonight."

She looks dubiously down at the hooded sweatshirt and jeans she wore rather than something dressier because she's self-conscious about the sporadic bruising on her arms and legs. She still won't talk in detail about what happened in the penthouse with Kingston and I suspect the reason is because I tense up every time we discuss it. I really ought to learn to control my reactions better when it comes to her.

I lean down to whisper in her ear. "It doesn't matter what you wear; you're always beautiful, Anastasia," I tell her, enjoying the way her skin flushes at my words. Feeling eyes on me, I glance over and find Ray watching us thoughtfully. When he sees me looking back, he winks and jumps into a conversation with my father about fishing spots near the Canadian border.

When we're ready to leave, it's still early enough that my plans can remain in motion. After double-checking my pocket for the key item I'll need, I give Ana some space to say goodbye to her mother who's heading back to Savannah early in the morning. To my surprise Carla Adams and I hit it off pretty quickly despite everything she undoubtedly knows about me. I have a feeling Ray set her mind at ease about me while Ana was in the hospital and she's had the opportunity to see us together and figure out that I truly love her daughter and she me. I don't know if she'll feel the same once she finds out about the pregnancy, but we'll deal with that when it comes.

Right now I'm eager and anxious as I lead Ana to the car and open her door. When I climb into the driver's seat, I glance over and find her watching me with an odd expression. "What?" I ask her, starting the ignition.

"Are you okay?" she asks. "You've been acting weird all evening."

I manage a smile and take her hand, bringing it to my lips to kiss her knuckles. "I'm fine," I respond, and it's true as long as she's with me. "And if you're not too tired, I'd like to take you somewhere."

She raises an eyebrow. "No, I'm not too tired. Where are we going?"

Shaking my head, I leave my parents' driveway and take the familiar route I've known since I was a kid. I'm not sure why this is the place I've chosen—there are a hundred places more romantic. Hell, I could fly us to Paris tonight and do this at the top of the Eiffel Tower. But somehow this has more meaning.

We're quiet as I pull into a parking spot at the marina. Ana looks around curiously, turning towards me with a frown. Rather than assuaging her curiosity, I get out of the car and walk around to help her out, taking her into my arms and kissing her slowly and deeply.

Her eyes are wide and her breath catches when I pull away, tugging her hand as we make our way down the docks towards _The Grace._

"A little late for sailing, isn't it?" Ana asks quietly, trying to work out my motives.

I nod. "And a little too cold," I add as she shivers. I remove my coat and slip it over her shoulders to keep her warm. "But I thought we could get out of the hotel room for a night, if that's okay with you."

She shrugs and nods, biting her lip against a smile. "I'd like that," she says shyly.

Tugging her lip from between her teeth, I bend slightly to press my lips to hers in a chaste kiss. "Come," I say softly, pulling her aboard the boat. It seems I've picked the perfect night for this, too. Yes, it's a bit chilly, but I don't plan on us spending all night on deck and the cabins have heating in them. There isn't a cloud in the sky, the moon is bright, and the stars are out. It's not a sight I see often from the center of Seattle; it's just too fucking bright. I really ought to get out here more often and bring Ana with me. We could sit on deck and look at the stars all night and watch the sun rise.

Tonight, though, I have other plans.

"It's beautiful out here," Ana says, leaning against the railing of the boat and staring out at the water.

"Yes, it is," I murmur, unable to take my eyes off of her as I pull her into my arms. "I love being with you, Anastasia."

She glances at me over her shoulder at my tone and turns around to face me. "Me, too, Christian," she whispers, reaching up to cup my cheek. I lean into her touch, wondering if I'll ever get enough and knowing I won't. "I love you."

I smile shyly at her, still growing accustomed to hearing her say it out loud. "I love you, too, baby. More than you could ever really know." Taking a deep breath, I steel my nerves. She's already dealt with so many huge changes in her life; can I really ask for another one so soon? "Ana, I realize we've been through a lot in the last few months and not all of it has been good. Hell, most of it should have had you running for the hills, but you've stayed even though every time I've promised to keep you safe, I've failed."

"Christian..." she says exasperatedly.

Placing a finger against her lips to silence her, I go on. "You can tell me I'm wrong, but we both know I'm not. I don't know if being with you has lowered my defenses or if I was simply ignoring all the signs because for once I was happy and didn't want to ruin it, but I could have been more on alert. Regardless, the fact that you haven't told me to go to hell after everything that's happened amazes me and you know I will do everything possible to keep you safe for however long you'll have me."

I know she wants to say something about not blaming myself for what's happened, but she remains silent for the moment even though her eyes shine bright with emotion and love... all for me. It's because of that I feel brave enough to continue. "Ana, from the second I saw you, I knew my life would never be the same. And I was right. I tried so hard to stay away from you, but no matter what I did, I couldn't get you out of my head. I've hurt you over and over, I've dragged you into things you shouldn't have to deal with, and have left you at risk to dangers I couldn't even foresee.

"More than that, I fell in love with you before I even knew what it meant. I became addicted to you, Anastasia, and I've only fallen deeper into that addiction over time. I never want to be apart from you. I want to have a future with you—kids, a house, white picket fence... Every cliché that exists, I want it. And I know we're unconventional when you compare us to Kate and Elliot, but I don't care. I happen to think it works for us." She cracks a smile and I notice for the first time that she has tears in her eyes. "I know what everyone will say—that we're doing this because of the baby and for no other reason. But they would be wrong. Ana, I have wanted this for a long time, probably from day one, even if I didn't know it, so fuck the rest of the world. All that matters is you and me. So, having said that..."

I step back slightly, noting that one of her hands has flown to cover her mouth and her eyes are wide as she stares at me in surprised disbelief. Trying not to jump to negative conclusions about what the expression in her eyes means, I drop to one knee, reaching into my pocket for the ring I had made especially for her, and look up at her, not shielding her from every emotion I feel from her—love, lust, desire, need, I want her to see it all and it leaves her speechless and holding her breath.

"Anastasia Steele, I will love you until my last breath and probably beyond. You are the only woman I will ever want for the rest of my life and I will do whatever it takes to ensure I'm the only man you will ever want. I will give you and our child everything you could ever desire and more, and I will never deny you anything. This is sudden, I know, but I also know what I feel for you will never change, so it doesn't matter if I do this or farther down the line... Will you marry me?"

* * *

 **A/N:** Apologies for the update delay. It's been a rough couple of weeks. Anyway, we are nearing the end. Thanks as always to everyone who has read and reviewed. I'll try to have the next chapter out as soon as possible. Take care!


	33. Chapter 33

Patience is something I've always been skilled at. I've had to be; in my line of work, it could take months to finalize a merger. In my private life, I've prided myself on my patience, particularly with my former submissives. I could have easily spent hours in the playroom with any one of those women drawing out my pleasure. I was taught patience at a young age; as a small child, I had to patiently wait inside a dirty, rundown apartment building waiting for the crack whore to return and bring me something to eat. In my teenage years, Elena Lincoln made sure I became patient and obedient.

It wasn't until recently that my patience was truly tested and eventually shattered completely. Now as I kneel on the deck of my boat in front of Anastasia Steele with a diamond ring in my hand, my patient side is nowhere to be found. It's barely been a minute and in that time, my confidence has also dropped. Ana is currently staring down at me with her hands covering her mouth and a noiseless gasp. She's clearly in shock, but I can't wait for that to fade; I'm desperate for her answer.

"Ana, baby, you're killing me here," I admit softly, still kneeling. "Say something. Please." _And please let that something be "yes."_

She finally lowers her hands and swallows, looking between my face and the ring I'm presenting her. "I'm sorry," she whispers and for a moment, my heart stops beating. "I wasn't expecting this."

"Well, I certainly wasn't expecting to have you in my life, but here you are," I uneasily. "Are you saying no?" The preemptive devastation and rejection is more painful than anything I've ever felt in my life.

Her eyes widen and she seems to shake herself back into the moment. "What? No, Christian," she says quickly. I frown; this isn't clearing up anything. But when she begins to smile at me, my confidence and relief return. "Of course I'll marry you."

It's my turn to be in shock. Despite having planned out this entire thing and imagined all the ways it could have gone, a small part of me believed she would say no, that it's too soon and too much has happened that she hasn't yet processed. "You will?" I breathe.

Carefully, mindful of her injuries, she kneels down in front of me, her eyes watery. "Yes," she says shyly.

And with that one little word, I'm happier than I have ever been in my life. I lean forward, crushing my lips to hers in a kiss full of gratitude and love and everything else I feel for her. She returns my kiss with just as much enthusiasm and a second later, she's in my lap, her legs wrapped around my waist and I'm carefully running my hands all along her body. It's not the first kiss we've shared since she was released from the hospital, but we've both been silently hesitant to escalate to anything more. I'm too worried about hurting her worse than she already is and she just hasn't been in the mood and I haven't wanted to push her into anything.

"I love you," I whisper against her lips, climbing to my feet. It's getting colder out and as much as I would enjoy making love to her beneath the stars, tonight isn't the night for that. Instead I take us below deck to main cabin.

"I love you, too," she replies as I gently lay her down on the bed.

Slowly, I begin removing her clothing, kissing every inch of exposed skin on her body from her toes all the way up to her lips. She's panting when I reach her mouth, and so am I for that matter, but I've been thinking of this moment for weeks and we have all night.

"I never dared to believe I would ever get married or have a family of my own," I whisper to her, holding myself above her with my elbows. "Now I can't imagine not having you in my life. And I cannot wait to meet our little invader." She giggles against my lips and I smile back.

"You're rather overdressed, Mr. Grey," she says quietly, looking up at me as though I'm her reason for being.

"Hmm," I murmur, rubbing my nose alongside hers. "I suppose I am, Miss Steele. What shall we do about that?"

To my complete surprise, Ana pushes on my shoulder until I'm lying on the bed and straddles my lap. "Well, you seemed to enjoy undressing me; perhaps it's my turn to undress you."

My eyebrows shoot up. Nobody has ever undressed me before. I wouldn't have allowed it; I've always been too concerned with somebody touching me. But Ana... well, she's different. That's something I've known for months and relearn every day. The first time I allowed her to touch me was the same night I spoke to my family about my sexual predilections. I'd needed her reassurance that what she felt for me hadn't changed even though the rest of the world was looking at me differently. And I'd needed to reassure her that I wasn't going to let anything stop us from being together. Her hands on me felt alien and terrifying at first, but just as quickly as my body reacted negatively to the touch of another, it relaxed with the knowledge that if there were one person in the world who could never harm me, it's Ana.

As promised, Ana takes as much time removing my clothing as I did hers, kissing her way up my inner thighs. My mouth drops open when she reaches my erection and I barely feel her tongue teasing me. I'm clenching my fists to keep from throwing her onto her back and fucking her until sunrise. I remind myself that though she's feeling much better, her ribs are still bruised; I'll hurt her if I'm not careful.

"Jesus, Ana," I breathe. "When did you get so good at this?" I ask her as she kisses her way up my chest, sliding her body up mine.

She smiles, her teeth teasing my jawline. "I had a very good teacher," she murmurs.

When her hips align with mine and she rubs herself all over me, I have to acknowledge that I really am one hell of a teacher. "I want you, Ana," I groan, watching her bite her lip at the sensations running through our bodies.

She nods frantically and very carefully, my hands bracket her hips and I lift her just enough to lower her back onto me until we're both gasping at how perfectly we feel together.

"Slowly, Ana," I whisper, pulling her down so I can capture her lips again. "I want to enjoy this."

She nods again, unable to speak as her forehead rests against mine and closes her eyes tightly. "Yes," she breathes.

We move together slowly so we can feel every inch of each other and nothing in the world could ever be more perfect than this moment right now. The build-up is gradual until I feel Ana clenching around me for more friction and I struggle to keep our tempo steady. She cries out my name as she comes and only a moment later I'm gasping hers, holding her to me because any distance between us feels wrong. My nose is buried in her hair for long minutes afterwards while we simply enjoy the gentle rocking of the boat.

I huff a laugh and Ana draws away from me slightly, looking at me as though I have two heads. "I'd planned on making love to you while you wore nothing but my ring. It seems we've skipped a step here."

She giggles, her body contracting around mine and causing me to hiss through my teeth. "Christian, our whole relationship has been out of order."

I grin at her. "Yes, it has, hasn't it? I'm not complaining; are you?" I challenge.

"No. Everything we've done has brought us here," she says quietly. "I wouldn't trade any of it away."

It's my turn to look at her as though she's grown a second head, but the sincerity in her eyes stops me. "Neither would I," I whisper back, kissing her slowly again. And it's true. All the bad that we've been through, the fear, the uncertainty, the frustration, it has all played a part in bringing us here. We're stronger for it, both individually and as a couple. There are, undoubtedly, things we still need to work out, but we've got time for that. We've got the rest of our lives, because she agreed to marry me and she's carrying my child. Nothing could be more important.

* * *

Breakfast hasn't ever been my favorite meal of the day. Most days I have a cup of coffee and a croissant while I read the morning news before work. When I was younger the only times I got excited about breakfast was when my mother was away at a medical conference and my dad would load us up in the car and take us to IHOP. It was also the only times I saw Carrick eat food without any nutritive value whatsoever. As I roll over in bed on _The Grace_ and realize my fiancée is missing, I begin to think about what sort of traditions Ana and I will start with our own family.

I slip out of bed, grabbing the pair of pajama bottoms from the bag Taylor dropped off here last night while Ana and I were with our families, and follow the delicious scent of pancakes and bacon. It's certainly not the first time Ana has cooked me breakfast, but every time, it still fills me with wonder. I'm not accustomed to people taking care of me without them being obligated to do so. My mother cooked breakfast because she's my mother; Gail does it because I pay her; my submissives did it because if they didn't, they were punished. Ana does it because she loves me. And she does it well. The view in the kitchen of my boat is almost as good as I know the food will be. She's only wearing my shirt from last night with her hair pulled back in a loose ponytail as she swings her hips slightly while humming some song.

For a minute, I just watch her, amazed that this is my life now. Soon I'll be a husband and a father, and it makes me feel content in a way I've never felt before.

"Are you just going to stand there gawking all day, Mr. Grey, or are you going to pour the orange juice?" she asks, not stopping her swaying or turning to look at me.

I grin and walk up behind her, wrapping my arms around her waist. "I thought I'd gawk for a while, actually, Miss Steele," I murmur against her neck. "You're very... gawk-able."

She giggles. "I don't think that's a word," she chides me.

"It should be," I say defensively. "I'll look into getting the dictionary updated and your picture placed right next to it."

She murmurs as my lips lazily move across her neck.

"What do you want to do today?" I ask her when she goes back to cooking and I pour the orange juice as instructed.

"You haven't made plans for us?" she asks with an arched eyebrow.

I smirk. "Well, I do have several things in mind that we can do," I say slowly. "But I'm asking for your input."

She shrugs, plating our breakfast and placing the plates on the kitchen table. "I want to be with you," she says shyly. "The details aren't important."

I stare at her in surprise, wondering if I'll ever get used to the idea that she feels as strongly for me as I do for her, that a man like me can be attractive to a woman like her. "I wholeheartedly agree, Anastasia," I whisper, leaning over and kissing her slowly. "And I love hearing you say things like that to me."

We sit down to start eating and I run through all the potential things we could do today. The most obvious is remaining on the boat, maybe take it out on the water for a few hours, park somewhere, and make love over and over again. Ana seems interested in the overall concept, but admits she woke up feeling a little queasy this morning.

"And so begins the morning sickness," I mutter sympathetically, mostly to myself. "Well, we can head back to the hotel and get some rest. Or, if you're up to another field trip, I could use your opinion on a few things."

She frowns slightly. "What things?" she asks warily. Her suspicion only deepens when I shift awkwardly in my seat.

I probably could have mentioned this before now, but all my focus has been on proposing marriage. "Well, obviously we can't live in a hotel long term and to be honest, I have no interest in ever returning to Escala, so I've been looking into other options."

"Oh?" she says curiously, taking a bite of pancake. I'm momentarily distracted by the little drop of syrup at the corner of her mouth that her tongue darts out to catch.

"Yes," I say, my voice hoarse as I force myself back on the subject of our day's plans. "All things considered, I think it's time we spread out a bit, find a place where we can grow, you know, as a family..." It's the first time I've considered the possibility that we might have more than one child.

The smile she gives me wipes away every bad feeling I have ever had and gives me hope for a stable, happy future. "I'd love that," she whispers.

* * *

I can't imagine having a more perfect day than the one Ana and I are currently experiencing. From the moment we met we've both been pulled in different directions by a multitude of people, and forced to deal with situations that could have so easily been the end of us whether it be my past or hers. But today is only about us. I shut off my phone before we reached _The Grace_ last night and only turned it back on to check that the arrangements I had waiting in the wings were complete. I ignored all messages from Ros and my family; for once I want to focus only on my and Ana's needs and happiness. It's much easier to switch off than I thought it might be and surprising how free I feel not worrying about work for a change.

But that is one of the things Ana does best: She makes me forget my troubles and I only hope I'm able to do the same for her on some level.

Following breakfast and a long shower during which we christened _The Grace's_ bathroom multiple times, we head towards the outskirts of Seattle so I can get Ana's opinion on our possible future home. Part of the reason I chose this spot is because it's not in the city. We wouldn't be surrounded by people constantly out here. The several acres of land will assure our privacy and peace, and Taylor has already weighed in on the safety. Here the security team can stretch out and do their jobs in the background like they're meant to.

The house itself is a fixer-upper. I would have happily knocked it down and rebuilt something brand-new for my family, but Ana is insistent that we only make the necessary upgrades. She used phrases like "it only needs a little TLC." The more she commented the more I got the impression she was talking about much more than just the house. Is that how she saw me when we first met? That all I needed was a little TLC? She wasn't wrong, though I never would have worked that out on my own.

By the end of our tour, we'd already decided which bedroom would become the nursery—the one with the second best view in the house. The first, of course, being the master bedroom. I spent several minutes watching Ana wander our baby's room while she silently made plans on how to decorate. I was lost in thought as I imagined her sitting by the huge bay window in a rocking chair nursing our child. I even briefly saw myself holding a baby in my own arms in the middle of the night, softly singing him or her back to sleep. It was in that moment that I realized how drastically my life has changed in such a short time. I felt like I was having some weird out of body experience as I recalled that only a few months ago I never even considered any of this would be a possibility or that I would want it. Now I hardly recognize my old life and that is how I want it.

"Deep thoughts, Mr. Grey?"

I'm startled back to the moment at the sound of Ana's voice and the feeling of her arms wrapping around my waist. Smiling, I hold her against me and lean down to rest my forehead on hers. "Just thinking about how much things have changed."

Her lips twitch. "You don't seem to be all that bothered by it," she observes.

"Not in the slightest," I say honestly. "I've never been happier about change in my life."

Her eyes widen slightly and she bites her lip. "Me neither," she whispers.

And because I simply can't resist her, I capture her lips with mine, kissing her slowly and thoroughly while I wonder if anything has ever been this perfect.

I pull away first, reluctantly, and glance at my watch with a sigh. "We have one more thing to do before I can get you somewhere private and naked," I murmur against her mouth.

She pouts adorably but proceeds to pull out of our embrace. Her expression would be enough for me to say fuck it and drag her back to the Fairmont for the rest of the night, but our next appointment is something I'm eagerly anticipating even though I can't deny how nervous I am about it. I see my feelings reflected in her eyes and just like that our minds have pushed back our constant need for each other, temporarily, of course, and I take her by the hand and lead her out of the house again.

Though it's possibly too early to see anything of significance, we have an appointment for an ultrasound with Ana's OB/GYN. The doctors at the hospital assured us the baby was completely unharmed while Ana went through her ordeal at Escala, but I'm paranoid and overprotective, and I need a second opinion. Ana didn't put up any sort of argument when I told her about the appointment which tells me she is just as concerned as I am.

Neither of us speaks on the drive to the doctor's office; we simply hold hands, occasionally rubbing our thumbs over each other's fingers in comfort. Despite all the reassurances I've received from my mother and John Flynn, I'm still nervous about fatherhood and I don't think it's something that will go away, even after our child is here in our arms. My nerves only grow when we're led into an exam room with posters on the walls depicting the changes Ana can expect to her body and the stages of growth of a baby. It's a wonder the human race hasn't died out after going through something this traumatic, but I suppose the end result is worth it. I'll just have to wait and see.

"You're fidgeting," Ana says quietly as she settles on the exam table in a hospital gown while we await the doctor's arrival.

I look down at my lap with a frown and discover she's correct. My fingers are knotted together the way Ana's do when she's nervous or anxious about something and my knee is bouncing rapidly. Forcing myself to relax, I meet Ana's gaze with a genuine smile. "Sorry," I reply, reaching for her hand. "I can't say I've ever done that before."

Her lips twitch again and she squeezes my fingers. "It's going to be fine," she promises me, but I can see the uncertainty in her own expression and I wonder if she believes her own words.

Realizing she's just as nervous as I am actually calms me. I'm not the only one new to parenthood here and I've got months to prepare; Ana is already going through so many changes and it's only just begun. "I know it will," I say softly, bringing her hand to my lips. "I've got you."

Her mouth drops open at my words, but before she can speak, there is a knock on the door. The doctor breezes in with a brief smile in my direction before shaking Ana's hand.

"How are you feeling, Ana?" Dr. Greene asks once the obligatory doctor/patient small talk has concluded.

"Okay," Ana answers with a nod. "The pain in my ribs is subsiding more every day. My arm feels much better."

The doctor nods in satisfaction. "Good, and are you still on the pain medication?"

"Only when I need it, but I haven't taken any in a few days."

"Even better," the doctor replies. "So I assume the reason you're here is because you're hoping to check on your baby's status. Have you had a scan yet, Ana?"

"At the hospital," Ana confirms, "but we weren't really able to see anything. It was more a confirmation that everything was all right."

Dr. Greene nods, checking Ana's chart. "Well, let's see what we can see," she says, standing.

My eyes widen as the doctor pulls a monitor closer to Ana's bed and retrieves what resembles one of the toys in my playroom, covering it with a condom. I wince in sympathy for Ana as it's inserted and the doctor has to move it around a bit to find what she's looking for. I'm also biting my lip to not laugh at the uncomfortable expression on Ana's face. She notices and glares at me which relaxes us both significantly.

"Okay, here we go..." Dr. Greene says suddenly.

Our eyes fly to the screen to find what the doctor is pointing at. At first all I see is what we saw while Ana was in the hospital: a tiny black speck in the middle of a gray blob. But the closer I look the more I see just how much has changed in a couple of weeks. I can clearly make out a baby's head and what looks to be the beginnings of arms and legs. What really catches me off guard though, is the tiny rapid flutter in what I assume would be the baby's chest.

Dr. Greene hits a button on the monitor and Ana gasps at the first sound of our baby's heartbeat. All I can do is stare at the image on the screen unable to believe she and I created something so amazing. All my fear washes away the longer I look and I barely hear anything the doctor and Ana are saying.

"Everything looks great," I hear faintly. "As you can see and hear, the heartbeat is strong and healthy. I don't currently see anything that worries me, but of course given everything you've been through, Ana, I'll want to monitor you a little more closely than I would with my other patients. If you experience anything you find worrisome, don't be afraid to call the office for advice. I'll give you a prescription for vitamins I want you to begin taking immediately and apart from that, I'll print out a list of instructions and pregnancy do's and don'ts and some copies of today's scan. But other than that, you two are good to go."

Ana thanks her and she leaves us alone in the room so Ana can get dressed again. It doesn't escape my notice that the monitor is still on and frozen on the image of our baby; I can't take my eyes off of it.

"You've been very quiet," Ana says, sliding off the exam table to change.

I'm snapped out of my daze. "A lot to take in," I say hoarsely. "It feels real now."

She nods slowly, standing beside me and looking at the monitor. I wrap my arms around her, resting my head against her belly. "It does," she agrees. "I'm happy."

My smile could probably light up the whole of Seattle at her words. "Well, I'm very glad to hear that, baby," I tell her, pressing my lips against the skin that was exposed when her t-shirt rode up. "So am I."

We remain like that for a while until the nurse comes in to give us the packet of information Dr. Greene told us about. With my arm wrapped securely around Ana, I lead her out of the doctor's office while we discuss mundane things like what we want for dinner. While I would love nothing more than to take her out on the town and announce to the world that she's mine and carrying my child, the thought of having her to myself for a little while longer I much more appealing. This is still our day; the rest of the world can wait until tomorrow.

* * *

 **A/N:** Massive, massive apologies for the delay. Between the holidays, a broken arm, and many other unfortunate things, I haven't been able to sit down and right. Thank you for being so patient. This chapter was actually meant to be the epilogue, but I felt guilty about not updating in so long that I decided a regular chapter was in order. There may be one more chapter after this before the epilogue, but I'm not sure yet. We'll see how things work out. I hope everyone is having a good New Year so far and I'll try to get more story out soon!


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